Dorothy
For she grew up in Kansas
An American for real
She loved baseball, God and country
And McDonalds for a meal.
She was a true American
Loved Springsteen to the hilt
But when she was in college
And struggling with bills
She thought she'd join the army
Join up as a reserve
Two weeks a year did not seem much
The time she had to serve.
It was great there in the army
She took it in her stride
Gave her some real ambition
And a sense of National Pride.
She started off as private
They joked, as 'private parts'
Then she became a corporal
Of the military arts
Part time corporal Kansas
She said that to the men
Who now were joining up in droves
When promotion came again
So now she was a sergeant
Who'd never been to war
Then the call up for iraq came out
And opened up the door
Of full time full on soldiering
So now it was her chance
To fight those goddam'd Arabs
And stop their deadly dance.
Day one it was amazing
They were given their full kit
Some kit wasn't full at all
But they didn't mind a bit
So with her body armour
An M15 right by her side
She jumped into the transport
For a military ride.
They disembarked at Basra
Now held safe by prior troops
They raced the desert northwards
Caught Baghdad inside a loop
The war was over quickly
Those Iraqi's they just ran
And one day she was called to see
A new military man
Said she was showing promise
Would she like to a different role?
A role that’s so important
And so central to our goal
These WMD's he said
Are proving hard to find
Those damned Iraqi's know so much
But they have twisted minds
We've got close on two hundred
Most of the players in the pack
So we have to exert pressure
On all the A-rabs that we catch.
Sergeant Kansas saw her future
She knew her destiny
She would be the first to find
A WMD.
We've know that they are out there
We know that from on high
And Sergeant Kansas stood there
Spangled banner in her eyes.
The dog leash was quite crazy
She told investigative men
Who questioned her so closely
And time and time again
They asked her the same question
Are you really really sure
That this was just an act of yours
And that no superior
Told you straight to do it
Or was it that this war
Made certain things permitted
Behind the gaol house door?
(pause)
'it was great there in the army
I took it in my stride
It gave me real ambition
And a sense of national pride
That is how it started
But if i the truth can tell
I now feel i'm America
And in a living hell'
30 May 2004
poem by David Keig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Eternal Kansas City
Chorus (choir singing)
Excuse me do you know the way to kansas city?
Excuse me do you know the way to kansas city?
Excuse me do you know the way to kansas city?
Excuse me do you know the way to kansas city? (do you know the way to kansas city? )
Excuse me do you know the way to kansas city? (do you know the way to kansas city? )
Excuse me do you know the way to kansas city? (do you know the way to kansas city? )
Excuse me do you know the way to kansas city? (do you know the way to kansas city? )
Excuse me do you know the way to kansas city? (do you know the way to kansas city)?
(van singing)
Excuse me do you know the way to kansas city?
Excuse me do you know the way to kansas city?
Excuse me do you know the way to kansas city?
Excuse me do you know the way to kansas city?
Train down to st. louis
Get me there alright
Over to the city there, you know that one
Where the farmers daughter digs the farmers son
Dig your charlie parker
Basie and young
Witherspoon and jay mcshann
They will come
Oooowoooowoooo
Chorus (van and choir in background)
Excuse me do you know the way to kansas city?
Excuse me do you know the way to kansas city?
Excuse me do you know the way to kansas city?
Excuse me do you know the way to kansas city?
Lady liberty in waiting
You know she lights the way
Her name is billie, shes a holiday
And the city is eternal -- hey, cant you see?
Its inside of you and its inside of me
Oooowoooowoooo
Chorus (van and choir in background)
You know, you know the way to kansas city?
You know, you know the way to kansas city?
You know, you know the way to kansas city?
You know, you know the way to kansas city ?
You know...the way to kansas city
You know...the way to kansas city
Wild thing
You know the way to kansas city (choir only)
Thank you man (van)
You know the way to kansas city
Sing it (van)
You know the way to kansas city (van and choir)
Hit it (van)
You know...the way to kansas city
You know...the way to kansas city
You know...the way to kansas city
You know...the way to kansas city
Baby cant you sing it one time (van)
(choir)
You know the way to kansas city
You know the way to kansas city
You know the way to kansas city
You know the way to kansas city
You know the way to kansas city
You know the way to kansas city
You know the way to kansas city
You know the way to kansas city
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Kansas City
PAUL McCARTNEY - KANSAS CITY
Kansas City, Kansas City here I come.
Kansas City, Kansas City here I come.
Got some pretty little women there, I'm gonna get me one.
Standing on the corner, crawl straight in my hand
With my Kansas City Baby, now by the Kansas City world.
Well the water in the city, well, taste like Georgia Pie
Going to Kansas City where it tastes like sugar, oh I know it.
Kansas City, Kansas City here I come.
Got some pretty little women there, I'm gonna get me one.
Kansas City, here every night you gave me none
Kansas City, surely looked like they were done
You know they turned it around now Baby, gonna scratch it, gonna run.
And rock with my Baby, rock with my Baby, one more time
Rock with my Baby, Kansas City Baby, one more time
Went to the city for, for this souvenir in my hand.
Well I might take a plane, might take a train
If I have to walk you won't grind in the same.
Oh, Kansas City, Kansas City here I come.
Got some crazy little women there, I'm gonna get me one.
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Kansas City (1st Time)
Kansas City, Kansas City here I come. Kansas City, Kansas City here I come.
Got some pretty little women there, I'm gonna get me one.
Standing on the corner, crawl straight in my hand
With my Kansas City Baby, now by the Kansas City world.
Well the water in the city, well, taste like Georgia Pie
Going to Kansas City where it tastes like sugar, oh I know it.
Kansas City, Kansas City here I come.
Got some pretty little women there, I'm gonna get me one.
Kansas City, here every night you gave me none
Kansas City, surely looked like they were done
You know they turned it around now Baby, gonna scratch it, gonna run.
And rock with my Baby, rock with my Baby, one more time
Rock with my Baby, Kansas City Baby, one more time
Went to the city for, for this souvenir in my hand.
Well I might take a plane, might take a train
If I have to walk you won't grind in the same.
Oh, Kansas City, Kansas City here I come.
Got some crazy little women there, I'm gonna get mo one
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Beehive State
Randy Newman
Since you're the delegate from Kansas
Will you kindly take the floor
Now tell us, what is Kansas thinkin'
What is Kansas for
Kansas is for the farmer
We stand behind the little man
We need a fire house in Topeka
So help us if you can
I see the gentleman from Utah
Our friendly Beehive State
How can we help you, Utah
How can we make you great
We got to irrigate our deserts
We got to get some things to grow
We got to tell this country about Utah
'Cause nobody seems to know
song performed by by Doobie Brothers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Back to the Army Again
I'm 'ere in a ticky ulster an' a broken billycock 'at,
A-layin' on the sergeant I don't know a gun from a bat;
My shirt's doin' duty for jacket, my sock's stickin' out o' my boots,
An' I'm learnin' the damned old goose-step along o' the new recruits!
Back to Army again, sergeant,
Back to the Army again.
Don't look so 'ard, for I 'aven't no card,
I'm back to the Army again!
I done my six years' service. 'Er Majesty sez: "Good day --
You'll please to come when you're rung for, an' 'ere's your 'ole back-pay:
An' fourpence a day for baccy -- an' bloomin' gen'rous, too;
An' now you can make your fortune -- the same as your orf'cers do."
Back to the Army again, sergeant,
Back to the Army again.
'Ow did I learn to do right-about-turn?
I'm back to the Army again!
A man o' four-an'-twenty that 'asn't learned of a trade --
Beside "Reserve" agin' him -- 'e'd better be never made.
I tried my luck for a quarter, an' that was enough for me,
An' I thought of 'Er Majesty's barricks, an' I thought I'd go an' see.
Back to the Army again, sergeant,
Back to the Army again.
'Tisn't my fault if I dress when I 'alt --
I'm back to the Army again!
The sergeant arst no questions, but 'e winked the other eye,
'E sez to me, " 'Shun!" an' I shunted, the same as in days gone by;
For 'e saw the set o' my shoulders, an' I couldn't 'elp 'oldin' straight
When me an' the other rookies come under the barrik-gate.
Back to the Army again, sergeant,
Back to the Army again.
'Oo would ha' thought I could carry an' port?
I'm back to the Army again!
I took my bath, an' I wallered -- for, Gawd, I needed it so!
I smelt the smell o' the barricks, I 'eard the bugles go.
I 'eard the feet on the gravel -- the feet o' the men what drill --
An' I sez to my flutterin' 'eart-strings, I sez to 'em, "Peace, be still!"
Back to the Army again, sergeant,
Back to the Army again.
'Oo said I knew when the troopship was due?
I'm back to the Army again!
I carried my slops to the tailor; I sez to 'im, "None o' your lip!
You tight 'em over the shoulders, an' loose 'em over the 'ip,
For the set o' the tunic's 'orrid." An' 'e sez to me, "Strike me dead,
But I thought you was used to the business!" an' so 'e done what I said.
Back to the Army again, sergeant,
Back to the Army again.
Rather too free with my fancies? Wot -- me?
I'm back to the Army again!
Next week I'll 'ave 'em fitted; I'll buy me a swagger-cane;
They'll let me free o' the barricks to walk on the Hoe again,
In the name o' William Parsons, that used to be Edward Clay,
An' -- any pore beggar that wants it can draw my fourpence a day!
Back to the Army again, sergeant,
Back to the Army again.
Out o' the cold an' the rain, sergeant,
Out o' the cold an' the rain.
'Oo's there?
A man that's too good to be lost you,
A man that is 'andled an' made --
A man that will pay what 'e cost you
In learnin' the others their trade -- parade!
You're droppin' the pick o' the Army
Because you don't 'elp 'em remain,
But drives 'em to cheat to get out o' the street
An' back to the Army again!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Best Friend Danny
I met him in nineteen fifty-six
he was my best friend
him and I, was always in a fix
of our fights, we always did mend.
There was the time
we painted the fence
wanted to do the job, real fine
used a whole gallon of paint
it didn't make sense
my brother dave asked,
'What happened to all the paint'?
when we told him, 'We used it all, '
he laughed, I thought, he was going to faint,
thru the years, with that story,
we have really had a ball
Then there was the time
we tried to chop down the tree
my brother got mad, but the three was mine
oh, we were so care-free
I never forget the racoon,
that followed us home,
he seemed to like our radio
that was playing a tune
the racoon, seemed so a lone
I never forgot the indian head
pennies, he sold me,
he stole them, of crime he led,
he had taken them from his dad
I should have known, he sold them so cheap
to get them back, his father was glad
He always did something
to me that was real mean
to make up, a present he would bring
of our friendship, he would lean
He taught me how to smoke
this you say, you call a friend.
when I could have had a stroke,
but he always had money to lend
When I didn't have any friends at all,
Danny was always, by my side
and it sure made me feel tall
if any one picked on me, he would
beat their hide
Every one called him and I a clown,
each one laughed so hard
that it, really brought them down,
at poker, he could really hide a card
Every morning before school
we played poker, he cheated a lot
and with him, I wanted to fight a duel
but he told me 'I cheat not.'
Of the down town loop, we did ride
in nine-teen fifty-nine
our car through the streets, would glide
trying to find girls
that would be his or mine
In nine-teen sixty, my dog shep died,
it was very depressing and sad
him and I, all day we cried
it made me unhappy and a little mad
In nine-teen sixty-two
he joined the army
I tried to join, but didn't make it
those days were very stormy
after what he went through,
I didn't mind a bit
In nine-teen sixty-seven
the army let him go,
at home at last, I thought I was
in heaven
but I soon found out, it wasn't so
The army had changed him, in many ways
Danny was not the same anymore
as I looked back, at those good old days
when I always heard him, knock on the door
All he wanted to do now, is go drink
he could'nt sit still very long
and he was really starting to sink
he had seen action, against the Viet Cong
Next to him one night
a man's throat was slashed, a man who was kind
it wasn't good, or right
and what it must have done, to Danny's mind
Over the years, I saw him, until eighty-one
hav'nt seen him since
remember well, good times and all the fun
Danny where ever you are,
you are still my best friend
does that make sense.
The Beehive State
Since youre the delegate from kansas
Will you kindly take the floor
And tell us what kansas is thinking
And what is kansas for?
Well kansas is for the farmer
We stand behind the little man
And we need a firehouse in topeka
So help us if you can
I see the delegate from utah
Our friendly beehive state
How can we help you, utah?
How can we make you great?
Well, we got to irrigate our deserts
So we can get some things to grow
And we got to tell this country about utah
'cause nobody seems to know
song performed by by Randy Newman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Is The Army Mister Jones
sheet music version:]
A bunch of frightened rookies were list'ning filled with awe
They listened while a sergeant was laying down the law
They stood there at attention, their faces turning red
The sergeant looked them over and this is what he said
This is the Army, Mister Jones!
No private rooms or telephones
You had your breakfast in bed before
But you won't have it there any more
This is the Army, Mister Green!
We like the barracks nice and clean
You had a housemaid to clean your floor
But she won't help you out any more
Do what the buglers command
They're in the Army and not in a band
This is the Army, Mister Brown!
You and your baby went to town
She had you worried but this is war
And she won't worry you anymore
song performed by by Irving Berlin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sam's Racehorse
When Sam Small retired from the Army
He'd a pension of ninepence a day,
And seven pounds fourteen and twopence
He'd saved from his rations and pay.
He knew this 'ere wasn't a fortune,
But reckoned with prudence and care
He'd find some investment to save him
From hard work and things like that there.
He thought he'd invest in a race orse,
As apart from excitement and fun
He'd be able to sit down in comfort
And live on the money he won.
He knew buying 'orses was tricky,
But that didn't daunt him at all;
He said "They must rise early 't mornin
As wants to play tricks on Sam Small!"
When he called on the local 'Orse-dealer
Surprise rooted him to the spot,
For he found 'twere his old Comp'ny Sergeant,
Whose kindness he'd never forgot.
'Twere a happy reunion on both sides,
Their pleasure at meeting was great,
For each hoped to diddle the other
And wipe a few grudges off slate.
The Sergeant brought out his race 'orses,
For which he asked various sums;
They hadn't a tooth left between them,
But Sam knew their age by their gums.
Sam studied their lines and deportment
As Sergeant were trotting them round,
And told him he reckoned their value
Were fourpence, per race 'orse, per pound.
Now the Sarg. had a filly called Buster
As he hadn't said nothing about,
But when Sam turned his nose up at t'others
He thought as he'd best trot her out.
Sam were struck with her youthful appearance,
Though there wasn't much light in the place,
For her teeth were all pearly and even
And there wasn't a line on her face.
The Sergeant asked Sam twenty guineas,
But Sam, who were up to his tricks,
Pretended he thought he'd said shillings
And offered him eighteen and six.
In the end he paid eight guineas for her,
And when he'd got home with the goods
He reckoned he'd not done so badly,
For three of the guineas was duds.
But later, when he thought it over,
A doubt through his mind seemed to creep,
If Buster were all she were painted,
Why the Sergeant had sold her so cheap.
He very soon found out the answer
When he looked at her close in her stall,
She'd the marks where her face had been lifted
And a mouth full of false teeth an' all.
The little walk home had fatigued her
And the cold air had started her cough;
Sam reckoned he'd best see the Sergeant
And tell him the bargain was off.
The place were locked up when he got there,
And he realized Sergeant had bunked,
So back he went home in a dudgeon
And found Buster lying-defunct.
Sam knew if he wanted to sell her
He mustn't let on she were dead,
So he raffled her down at the Darts Club-
Forty members at five bob a head.
The raffle were highly successful,
They all came in every man jack
And so's winner'd have no cause to grumble
Sam gave him his five shillings back.
poem by Marriott Edgar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Matthew
Had an uncle named matthew
Was his fathers only boy
Born just south of colby, kansas
Was his mothers pride and joy
Yes, and joy was just the thing that he was raised on
Love was just the way to live and die
Gold was just a windy kansas wheatfield
Blue, just a kansas summer sky
All the stories that he told me
Back when I was just a lad
All the memories that he gave me
All the good times that he had
Growin up a kansas farmboy
Life was mostly havin fun
Ridin on his daddys shoulders
Behind a view beneath the sun
Yes, and joy was just the thing that he was raised on
Love was just the way to live and die
Gold was just a windy kansas wheatfield
Blue is just a kansas summer sky
Well, I guess there were some hard times
And Im told some years were lean
They had a storm in forty-seven
A twister came and stripped them clean
He lost the farm and lost his family
He lost the wheat and lost his home
But he found a family bible
Faith as solid as a stone
Yes, and joy was just the thing that he was raised on
Love was just the way to live and die
Gold was just a windy kansas wheatfield
Blue, just a kansas summer sky
So he came to live at our house
And he came to work the land
He came to ease my daddys burden
And he came to be my friend
So, I wrote this down for matthew
And its for him the song is sung
Ridin on his daddys shoulders
Behind a mule beneath the sun
Yes, and joy was just the thing that he was raised on
Love was just the way to live and die
Gold was just a windy kansas wheatfield
Blue, just a kansas summer sky
Yes, and joy was just the thing that he was raised on
Love was just the way to live and die
Gold was just a windy kansas wheatfield
Blue, just a kansas summer sky
Words and music by john denver
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Topography
After we flew across the country we
got in bed, laid our bodies
delicately together, like maps laid
face to face, East to West, my
San Francisco against your New York, your
Fire Island against my Sonoma, my
New Orleans deep in your Texas, your Idaho
bright on my Great Lakes, my Kansas
burning against your Kansas your Kansas
burning against my Kansas, your Eastern
Standard Time pressing into my
Pacific Time, my Mountain Time
beating against your Central Time, your
sun rising swiftly from the right my
sun rising swiftly from the left your
moon rising slowly form the left my
moon rising slowly form the right until
all four bodies of the sky
burn above us, sealing us together,
all our cities twin cities,
all our states united, one
nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.
poem by Sharon Olds
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Johnny Everyman
Johnny surfed on the waves,
till on the day,
that he got his call up papers.
Johnny new the sea and the waves
very well
and girls filled the beaches
and live was good and free.
Things were really great
until five gigantic Mp’s,
waited at his front door.
Their hair was trimmed very short
and they got hold of him,
and pulled him to and fro.
Johnny left home
in a military capture wagon
and had to choose,
between going to the army and jail.
In the army his hair was stripped
and like a prisoner
he was chased up and down
and drilled all over the place
and told that he was worth nothing.
Time after time
they tried to brake him
and took him on private busses
and at times his buddies
also went for the ride.
To run with ammunition chests
and buddy pt
and pencil and rubber
and other similar exercises
was learnt to him.
He was shouted and cursed at
and he learned to kill
in several ways
and to handle different weapons
and to live from the field.
Johnny went to Angola
and came back shell-shocked
and there were blood on his hands
and nobody wanted to know
and cared and could understand him.
[References: =>Mp’s=> Military policemen. private busses => Personal punishment and punitive exercises. Buddy pt => Exercises while running with a soldier in your arms. Pencil and rubber =>Exercises with poles and lorry tires]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tale of a Once Upon a Time Christmas Gift for Me from the Deity
God has a sense of humor and
If you have time I have a tale.
In military basic training land
The youngsters - not always young - always come to chapel.
It is the only place where they are free
Loosed temporarily from the fetters of their captivity
It is a place of pressure and of pain
This military basic training lane
Access to the military the goal to be gained.
The process lasts about twelve weeks
Twelve being the number choosen by our greatest teacher.
On Christmas Eve with help from wife
Her intent being to help ease my preaching strife
A great sermon was spoken to the uniformed throng
Their attentiveness told me absolutely nothing was wrong
A great sermon preached to a sea of faces
A little less pain in one of God's strange places.
But the best was yet to be
For God's sense of humor held a gift for me
That in that night of greatest pastoral power
A goal of rich adolescent vision had come to flower.
The goal was to preach in a great filled cathedral
And to do it with an excellence almost sudoral
To do it so well that half would return
To do it so well only half Christ would spurn,
At least as far as his worship would go
The ethical part is still very much in tow.
So God may or may not have a plan
But I suspect She chuckles when She observes man
And although cold stone the structure was not
A legion it could comfortably hold
The half of which were almost down right told
By circumstances beyond their personal control
That to chapel next week they would return
If only for encouragement their first strip to earn.
This is a genunine gift God gave to me
The purpose I think to help me see
That though youthful ambition errs by aiming high
The calculus of our lives belong to the Big Guy.
Note on the use of 'She' to refer to God. It was Oswald Chambers' 'My Utmost for His Highest' that educated me to this in the scriptural sense.
poem by Bill Grace
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We really are 15 countries, and it's really remarkable that each of us thinks we represent the real America. The Midwesterner in Kansas, the black American in Durham -- both are certain they are the real American.
quote by Maya Angelou
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ping Pong
I killed them one by one
methodically
never looking in their eyes
gun to the head
and bang
pull the trigger
and that sound
would ping and pong around me
a musical death sound.
PAUSE
I'd been quartered near to basra
we'd got rid of most of those
sorry - god damned arabs -
wearing fundamental clothes
the truth is that it got to me
and everything i've done
i thought was for god and country
and i thought that we had won.
But now the truth is testifed
and i have to make a plea
that all those things i done to them
was on orders - don't you see -
i am not a angry man
i have not a grain in me
that would really ever lead my men
into such depravity.
OK - we did things different
in that gaol house near baghdad
OK - we may have overstepped
the orders that we had
but we were never questionning
all the orders that they gave
we had heard our president
say this country we would save.
Those damned iraquis had so much
of evil weaponry
not just guns and planes and tanks
but those WMDs.
So we could never find them
and they may well not be there
but sitting in this courtroom
i am making up a prayer
why if saddam was so evil
did we have to........
PAUSE
Ping pong those bullets raced
clean and tight behind my face.
poem by David Keig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Parantha’s Dream
He marched up and down
with his string tied tin.
Keeping in time with the
beat and marching.
The twelve year old boy
Parantha Parapanjani
yearned to be a drummer
in the Royal Indian Army.
Using two wooden sticks
and a biscuit tin so old,
he imitated the drummers
and their drum rolls.
He marched up and down
with his string tied tin.
Keeping in time with the
beat and marching.
A thief stole his drum
leaving him with nothing to play,
but his father’s old tin leg,
stepped in to save the day.
From a string around his neck,
it swung about his waist,
as he practiced with the band
outside the military gates.
He marched up and down
with his string tied tin.
Keeping in time with the
beat and marching.
One day a limping man and boy
walked down the busy street,
as Parantha drummed up
a leg moving kind of beat.
The regimental sergeant major
recognised the sound,
and saw the leg being played,
as it made its way to town.
So impressed was the sergeant
he enlisted the boy in the band.
A new side-drum he was given
and a stick for each hand.
He marched up and down
with his Indian army band,
so proud to be a drummer,
with a stick in each hand.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Pharaoh and the Sergeant
". . . Consider that the meritorious services of the Sergeant Instructors attached to the Egyptian Army haue been inadequately acknowledged. . . . To the excellence of their work is mainly due the great improvement that has taken place in the soldiers of H.H. the Khedive." -- Extract from Letter, 1897
Said England unto Pharaoh, "I must make a man of you,
That will stand upon his feet and play the game;
That will Maxim his oppressor as a Christian ought to do,"
And she sent old Pharaoh Sergeant Whatisname.
It was not a Duke nor Earl, nor yet a Viscount --
It was not a big brass General that came;
But a man in khaki kit who could handle men a bit,
With his bedding labelled Sergeant Whatisname.
Said England unto Pharaoh, "Though at present singing small,
You shall hum a proper tune before it ends,"
And she introduced old Pharaoh to the Sergeant once for all,
And left 'em in the desert making friends.
It was not a Crystal Palace nor Cathedral;
It was not a public-house of common fame;
But a piece of red-hot sand, with a palm on either hand,
And a little hut for Sergeant Whatisname.
Said England unto Pharaoh, "You 've had miracles before,
When Aaron struck your rivers into blood;
But if you watch the Sergeant he can show vou something more. '
He's a charm for making riflemen from mud."
It was neither Hindustani, French, nor Coptics;
It was odds and ends and leavings of the same,
Translated by a stick (which is really half the trick),
And Pharaoh harked to Sergeant Whatisname.
(There were y ears that no one talked of; there were times of horrid doubt --
There was faith and hope and whacking and despair --
While the Sergeant gave the Cautions and he combed old Pharaoh out,
And England didn't seem to know nor care.
That is England's awful way o' doing business --
She would serve her God (or Gordon) just the same --
For she thinks her Empire still is the Strand and Hol born Hill,
And she didn't think of Sergeant Whatisname.)
Said England to the Sergeant, "You can let my people go!"
(England used 'em cheap and nasty from the start),
And they entered 'em in battle on a most astonished foe --
But the Sergeant he had hardened Pharaoh's heart
Which was broke, along of all the plagues of Egypt,
Three thousand years before the Sergeant came
And he mended it again in a little more than ten,
Till Pharaoh fought like Sergeant Whatisname.
It was wicked bad campaigning (cheap and nasty from the first),
There was heat and dust and coolie-work and sun,
There were vipers; flies, and sandstorms, there was cholera and thirst,
But Pharaoh done the best he ever done.
Down the desert, down the railway, down the river,
Like Israelites From bondage so he came,
'Tween the clouds o' dust and fire to the land of his desire,
And his Moses, it was Sergeant Whatisname!
We are eating dirt in handfuls for to save our daily bread,
Which we have to buy from those that hate us most,
And we must not raise the money where the Sergeant raised the dead,
And it's wrong and bad and dangerous to boast.
But he did it on the cheap and on the quiet,
And he's not allowed to forward any claim --
Though he drilled a black man white, though he made a mummy fight,
He will still continue Sergeant Whatisname --
Private, Corporal, Colour-Sergeant, and Instructor --
But the everlasting miracle's the same!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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My Love Is For Real
(rhett lawrence / paula abdul)
I made mistakes when I played with your mind
Gave you excuses with each story line
If you ask me how I feel
My love is for real
Watching you wondering what I feel inside
Deep in my soul Ive got nothing to hide
If you ask me how I feel
My love is for real
If you ask me how I feel
My love is for real
So baby please dont worry
I wanna make it better
I wanna be your only love
This time Ill understand you
Ill never leave your side
This time its got to be for you
Lets put an end to these long lonely nights
Things that were once wrong now turned out all right
If you ask me how I feel
My love is for real
If you ask me how I feel
My love is for real
You told me, you loved me
You said that
I need you, you want me
I told you
So baby I wont tease you
Im gonna make it better
Im wanna be your only love
This time Ill understand you
Ill never leave your side
This time its got to be for you
If you ask me how I feel
My love is for real
song performed by by Paula Abdul
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Orange peel
THE COLONEL stopped, and glared around,
Then, pointing sternly to the ground,
‘What does this mean?’ demanded he,
‘A piece of orange peel I see!’
The Major called the Captain then,
And said, ‘By Gad! Your fault again!
Now what the blazes do you mean
By letting all this filth be seen?’
The Captain sniffed, but took the snub,
Then, calling to the junior Sub.,
Observed, ‘Look here, what’s all this mess?
It’s fit for pigs, sir, nothing less!’
The junior Sub. blushed crimson red,
Then, to the Sergeant-major, said,
‘I’m quite fed up, and all that rot!
I mean to say a pigsty! What?’
The Sergeant-major, filled with rage,
Attacked the Sergeant at this stage,
‘You careless swab! jump to it smart.
Oh strewth! You break my blinkin ’eart!’
The Sergeant, starting in to
Apostrophized the Corporal, thus,
‘You lazy, lumberin’, boss-eyed lout!
Who chucked this crimson fruit about?’
The Corporal frowned, and turned his eye
On Private Atkins passing by;
‘Hi! you! Come ’ere, you slobberin’ sweep,
Just shift this festerin’ rubbish ’eap!’
And Private Atkins, filled with gloom,
Applied himself with spade and broom:
‘They talk a ruddy lot,’ Quothe he,
‘But ’oo does all the work? Why me’
------------------------- ------------------------------------------------- ------
poem by John Milton Hayes
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