Shovel And Tongs
The Poker proposed to the shovel
That they should be man and wife,
'I think,' said he, 'that we could agree
As we journey along through life.'
The Shovel blushed as she answered,
'I thank you kindly, Mister,
But my promise belongs to the faithful Tongs,
So I only can be your sister.'
And when the couple were married
The Stove gave the Shovel away;
And it seemed too bad that the Poker, poor lad,
Was the Tongs' best man on that day.
But the Poker soon after was wedded
To the hearth broom, slender and slick;
And 'twas whispered about Mrs. Tongs was put out
Because he found comfort so quick.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Related quotes
The Broom, the Shovel, the Poker and the Tongs
The Broom and the Shovel, the Poker and Tongs,
They all took a drive in the Park,
and they each sang a song, Ding-a-dong, Ding-a-dong,
Before they went back in the dark.
Mr Poker he sate quite upright in the coach,
Mr Tongs made a clatter and clash,
Miss Shovel was dressed all in black (with a brooch),
Mrs Broom was in blue (with a sash).
Ding-a-dong! Ding-a-dong!
And they all sang a song!
'O Shovely so lovely!' the Poker he sang,
'You have perfectly conquered my heart!
Ding-a-dong! Ding-a-dong! If you're pleased with my song,
I will feed you with cold apple tart!
When you scrape up the coals with a delicate sound,
You enrapture my life with delight!
Your nose is so shiny! your head is so round!
And your shape is so slender and bright!
Ding-a-dong! Ding-a-dong!
Ain't you pleased with my song?'
'Alas! Mrs Broom!' sighed the Tongs in his song,
'O is it because I'm so thin,
And my legs are so long - Ding-a-dong! Ding-a-dong!
That you don't care about me a pin?
Ah! fairest of creatures, when sweeping the room,
Ah! why don't you heed my complaint!
Must you needs be so cruel, you beautiful Broom,
Because you are covered with paint!
Ding-a-dong! Ding-a-dong!
You are certainly wrong!'
Mrs Broom and Miss Shovel together they sang,
'What nonsense you're singing today!'
Said the Shovel, 'I'll certainly hit you a bang!'
Said the Broom, 'And I'll sweep you away!'
So the Coachman drove homeward as fast as he could,
Perceiving their anger with pain;
But they put on the kettle, and little by little,
They all became happy again.
Ding-a-dong! Ding-a-dong!
There's an end of my song!
poem by Edward Lear
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Where's the Poker?
The poker lost, poor Susan storm'd,
And all the rites of rage perform'd;
As scolding, crying, swearing, sweating,
Abusing, fidgetting, and fretting.
"Nothing but villany, and thieving;
Good heavens! what a world we live in!
If I don't find it in the morning,
I'll surely give my master warning.
He'd better far shut up his doors,
Than keep such good for nothing whores;
For wheresoe'er their trade they drive,
We vartuous bodies cannot thrive."
Well may poor Susan grunt and groan;
Misfortunes never come alone,
But tread each other's heels in throngs,
For the next day she lost the tongs;
The salt box, colander, and pot
Soon shar'd the same untimely lot.
In vain she vails and wages spent
On new ones--for the new ones went.
There'd been (she swore) some dev'l or witch in,
To rob or plunder all the kitchen.
One night she to her chamber crept
(Where for a month she had not slept;
Her master being, to her seeming,
A better play fellow than dreaming).
Curse on the author of these wrongs,
In her own bed she found the tongs,
(Hang Thomas for an idle joker!)
In her own bed she found the poker,
With the salt box, pepper box, and kettle,
With all the culinary metal.--
Be warn'd, ye fair, by Susans crosses:
Keep chaste and guard yourselves from losses;
For if young girls delight in kissing,
No wonder that the poker's missing.
poem by Christopher Smart
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A Game Of Poker
A deck of cards, and I think of the game poker
An ace is a joker
Or a choker
In the game of poker
You can win from behind
With five, four or three of a kind
Never be in a rush
To dish out a flush
When you do, rub it in a a blush
This game of poker, I love so much
Every card and every single touch
Winners, beginners, high shakers and losers
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Difference In The Dark
They say the pot calls every kettle black
and pokers poke fun always at a shovel,
and chiropractors call a doc a quack,
but please don’t call my home sweet home a hovel.
They say that every lawyer is a shark,
and that a sexy woman has to be a slut,
but I can’t tell the difference in the dark,
or when the light’s on, when my eyes are shut.
When standing up, a man deserves applause,
but if he can’t, what should you call his poker
when narrative can’t keep up with the laws
of nature, and the poker is a joker?
Inspired by a review by Charles Rosen of a new edition of the Essays of Montaigne published by Pléiade (NYR, February 14 2008) :
He was, in fact, only fifty-five years old, but he was already experiencing the sense of old age. In another essay he describes what advancing years have done to him. “I can no longer make children standing up” [perhaps that was considered a proof of virility in his time]….
A view of adultery as completely natural is developed at length…At one point he addresses all male readers directly: “And of you have cuckolded somebody”-and that logically means it will happen to you. In the East Indies, he reports, a married woman is expected to be chaste, but she is allowed to abandon herself to any man who gives her an elephant. The essay best reveals an essential trait of Montaigne: he had almost no sense of guilt-regret often enough, of course, but no guilt It is no wonder that he thought repentance more a nuisance than a virtue. “On Some Verses of Virgil” is not only a nostalgic and frank discussion of sex, but also a collection of misogynistic anecdotes and jokes, banalities and classical traditions, largely to establish that it is absurd to force women to live by rules fashioned by men, and to require them to believe that that are not interested in sex, when they are in fact more lascivious than men—having so much less to occupy them…The coexist happily. And the idea is reinforced by further commonplaces:
It is easier to attack one sex than to excuse the other. As we say: the ot calls the kettle black. [More literally, the poker makes fun of the shovel.]
2/2/08
poem by Gershon Hepner
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They Who Prepare My Evening Meal Below
They who prepare my evening meal below
Carelessly hit the kettle as they go
With tongs or shovel,
And ringing round and round,
Out of this hovel
It makes an eastern temple by the sound.
At first I thought a cow bell right at hand
Mid birches sounded o'er the open land,
Where I plucked flowers
Many years ago,
Spending midsummer hours
With such secure delight they hardly seemed to flow.
poem by Henry David Thoreau
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Initial feedback we got from people was that Poker could and should be a product in its own right. For us, that was definitely a case of us not seeing the forest for the trees since we are Poker nuts.
The Jack
She gave me the Queen
She gave me the King
She was wheelin' and dealin'
Just doin' her thing
She was holdin' a pair
But I had to try
Her Deuce was wild
But my Ace was high
But how was I to know
That she'd been dealt with before
Said she'd never had a Full House
But I should have known
From the tattoo on her left leg
And the garter on her right
She'd have the card to bring me down
If she played it right
She's got the Jack
Poker face was her name
Poker face was her nature
Poker straight was her game
If she knew she could get you
She play'd 'em fast
She play'd 'em hard
She could close her eyes
And feel every card
But how was I to know
That she'd been shuffled before
Said she'd never had a Royal Flush
But I should have known
That all the cards were comin'
From the bottom of the pack
And if I'd known what she was dealin' out
I'd have dealt it back
She's got the Jack.
song performed by by AC/DC from High Voltage
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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4% Pantomime
The management said they were sorry
For the inconvenience you are suffering
And mr. booking agent, please have mercy
Dont book the jobs so far apart
We went up to griffith park
With a fifth of johnny walker red
And smashed it on a rock and wept
While the old couple looked on into the dark
Oh, richard, tell me if its poker
Oh, richard, tell me, whos got the joker and is it poker
Deuces wild, like an only child
Ill see what you got. how much is in the pot
You pay the tips and Ill collect the chips
Its a full house tonight -- everybody in town is a loser
Yeah, you bet
The dealers been dealing me bad hands
From the bottom of the deck without the slightest blush
And I dont know whether to call or check
But right now I feel like I got a royal flush
And my lady didnt show from frisco
But we had to go on with the show
Everybody got stoned -- it was a gas, it was a smash
Everybody got wrecked, checked. oh, oh, oh, oh.
Oh, belfast cowboy, lay your cards on the grade
Oh, belfast cowboy, can you call a spade a spade
Oh, richard, tell me, is the game poker
I cant understand who the fool is that holds this joker
Is it poker
Oh, belfast cowboy, lay your cards down on the table
Oh, belfast cowboy, do you think youre able
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Smoke and poker (parody
(with apology to Koos A. Kombuis)
in the lane of the light
we go into the location
and there create family
on beds with blankets without sheets.
[Rook en poker (Smoke and poker) by Koos A. Kombuis.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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She's Got The Jack
She gave me the Queen
She gave me the King
She was wheelin' and dealin'
Just doin' her thing
She was holdin' a pair
But I had to try
Her Deuce was wild
But my Ace was high
But how was I to know
That she'd been dealt with before
Said she'd never had a Full House
But I should have known
From the tattoo on her left leg
And the garter on her right
She'd have the card to bring me down
If she played it right
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack
She's got the jack
Poker face was her name
Poker face was her nature
Poker straight was her game
If she knew she could get you
She played 'em fast
And she played 'em hard
She could close her eyes
And feel every card
But how was I to know
That she'd been shuffled before
Said she'd never had a Royal Flush
But I should have known
That all the cards were comin'
From the bottom of the pack
And if I'd known what she was dealin' out
I'd have dealt it back
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack, and who knows what else?
She's got the jack, yeah, yeah
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack
She's got the jack
She's got the jack, she's got the jack,
Ooh, It was a bad deal, (Jack)
She gave me the (Jack), hey
She's got the (Jack), she's got the (Jack)
She's got the (Jack), ooh can't you tell
She's got the (Jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack)
(She's got the jack, she's got the Jack)
She's got the jack, she's got the Jack
She's got the jack, you never know!
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack
She's got the jack, and it hurts!
(She's got the jack)
She's got the jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack
She's got the jack
Aaaaaah!
Oooooh!
Thank you, thank you, thank you people, thank you, thank you
I'm glad you like the show, yes, thank you very much folks.
Goodnight and God bless
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Seaweed Shovelling Song
This is my seaweed shovelling song
Ive been shovelling all day long
Ive got got my seaweed shovel in hand
Because Im a seaweed shovelling man
Green weed, red weed, still alive and dead weed
Lying in a pile on the shore
Brown weed, pink weed, smelly kind of stink weed
Who on earth could ask for more!
This is my seaweed shovelling song
Ive been shovelling all day long
Ive got got my seaweed shovel in hand
Because Im a seaweed shovelling man
Dry weed, wet weed, aint-been-troubled-yet weed
Glinting in the morning sun
Thin weed, thick weed, slimy kind of slick weed
Every bucket weighs a ton!
This is my seaweed shovelling song
Ive been shovelling all day long
Ive got got my seaweed shovel in hand
Because Im a seaweed shovelling
Seaweed shovelling
Seaweed shovelling
Seaweed shovelling man!
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Last Night I Played Poker With Death
Last night
I played poker with death.
It was a long night
and I wanted to win the game
but I did not win.
And now
I can see from the distance
the erecting hair of sunrise
so pale, but it's golden.
And I see my wife
weeping and weeping
and weeping...
beside my dead body.
I want to embrace her
but this light from above
is lifting me up
higher....and higher.
Last night
I played poker with death
and I did not win.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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Lazy Poker Blues
Written by peter green and adams.
Me and my baby dont do nothing but lay around all day long
I said me and my baby dont do nothing but lay around all day long
Yeah when Im with my baby, lazy poker goin on
She puts some coal on the fire so I can keep my poker hot
She puts some coal on the fire so I can keep my poker hot
Yeah, we stoke around all day long and night time we stoke around some more
Well now me and my baby dont do nothin but lay around the whole day long
I said me and my baby dont do nothin but lay around the whole day long
When Im with my baby, lazy poker goin on
song performed by by Fleetwood Mac
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rock Away
Stay on it.
Pray on it.
Don't give up,
'Til you own it.
And...
Pound, pound that rock away!
Don't let it get to you another day,
Oh!
Get a pick and shovel pieces of it...
To a place where it will stay.
Oooow!
p-p-p Pound, pound that rock away.
Don't let it get to you another day,
Oh!
tick-tick-tick,
Get a pick...
And shovel pieces of it to a place,
Where you know it will stay!
Take it off your constant meter.
Make your heated sweat,
Even sweeter.
Give it up to the gripper,
Quicker.
Slicker.
Live your life lived that much richer.
And...
Pound, pound that rock away!
Don't let it get to you another day,
Oh!
Get a pick and shovel pieces of it...
To a place,
Where...
It will stay.
You will not feel free,
Until that beast has been ceased.
Stay on it.
Pray on it.
Don't give up,
'Til you own it.
Stay on it.
Pray on it.
Don't give up,
'Til you own it.
p-p-p Pound, pound that rock away.
Don't let it get to you another day,
Oh!
tick-tick-tick,
Get a pick...
And shovel pieces of it,
To a place,
Where...
It will stay!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Thrill Is In The Chase
Girls never like to know
Their love for him is true
Cause the nature of the beast
Says he wants to pursue
He wants what he cannot have
And he won't be outdone
Cause he'll always love the one that keeps him on the run
The thrill is in the chase
And I guess they know that too
Cause I've been running long and hard
And can't catch up to you
Girls if you think you've found true love
Keep your poker face
Cause I know better, the thrill is in the chase
If he's far, far away
Don't call him on the phone
Never let him know
You spend some nights alone
I can tell you one thing more
That I've found to be true
That he'll always love the one that makes him blue
The thrill is in the chase
And I guess they know that too
Cause I've been running long and hard
And can't catch up to you
Girls if you think you've found true love
Keep your poker face
Cause I know better, the thrill is in the chase
Girls if you think you've found true love
Keep your poker face
Cause I know better, the thrill is in the chase
Cause I know better, the thrill is in the chase
song performed by by Dixie Chicks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ballad by the Fire
Slowly I smoke and hug my knee,
The while a witless masquerade
Of things that only children see
Floats in a mist of light and shade:
They pass, a flimsy cavalcade,
And with a weak, remindful glow,
The falling embers break and fade,
As one by one the phantoms go.
Then, with a melancholy glee
To think where once my fancy strayed,
I muse on what the years may be
Whose coming tales are all unsaid,
Till tongs and shovel, snugly laid
Within their shadowed niches, grow
By grim degrees to pick and spade,
As one by one the phantoms go.
But then, what though the mystic Three
Around me ply their merry trade? --
And Charon soon may carry me
Across the gloomy Stygian glade? --
Be up, my soul! nor be afraid
Of what some unborn year may show;
But mind your human debts are paid,
As one by one the phantoms go.
ENVOY
Life is the game that must be played:
This truth at least, good friend, we know;
So live and laugh, nor be dismayed
As one by one the phantoms go.
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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Written in Germany, On One of The Coldest Days Of The Century
A plague on your languages, German and Norse!
Let me have the song of the kettle;
And the tongs and the poker, instead of that horse
That gallops away with such fury and force
On this dreary dull plate of black metal.
See that Fly,--a disconsolate creature! perhaps
A child of the field or the grove;
And, sorrow for him! the dull treacherous heat
Has seduced the poor fool from his winter retreat,
And he creeps to the edge of my stove.
Alas! how he fumbles about the domains
Which this comfortless oven environ!
He cannot find out in what track he must crawl,
Now back to the tiles, then in search of the wall,
And now on the brink of the iron.
Stock-still there he stands like a traveller bemazed:
The best of his skill he has tried;
His feelers, methinks, I can see him put forth
To the east and the west, to the south and the north;
But he finds neither guide-post nor guide.
His spindles sink under him, foot, leg, and thigh!
His eyesight and hearing are lost;
Between life and death his blood freezes and thaws;
And his two pretty pinions of blue dusky gauze
Are glued to his sides by the frost.
No brother, no mate has he near him--while I
Can draw warmth from the cheek of my Love;
As blest and as glad, in this desolate gloom,
As if green summer grass were the floor of my room,
And woodbines were hanging above.
Yet, God is my witness, thou small helpless Thing!
Thy life I would gladly sustain
Till summer come up from the south, and with crowds
Of thy brethren a march thou should'st sound through the clouds,
And back to the forests again!
poem by William Wordsworth
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The Nutcrackers and the Sugar-Tongs
The Nutcrackers sate by a plate on the table,
The Sugar-tongs sate by a plate at his side;
And the Nutcrackers said, 'Don't you wish we were able
'Along the blue hills and green meadows to ride?
'Must we drag on this stupid existence for ever,
'So idle so weary, so full of remorse,--
'While every one else takes his pleasure, and never
'Seems happy unless he is riding a horse?
II
'Don't you think we could ride without being instructed?
'Without any saddle, or bridle, or spur?
'Our legs are so long, and so aptly constructed,
'I'm sure that an accident could not occur.
'Let us all of a sudden hop down from the table,
'And hustle downstairs, and each jump on a horse!
'Shall we try? Shall we go! Do you think we are able?'
The Sugar-tongs answered distinctly,'Of course!'
III
So down the long staircase they hopped in a minute,
The Sugar-tongs snapped, and the Crackers said 'crack!'
The stable was open, the horses were in it;
Each took out a pony, and jumped on his back.
The Cat in a fright scrambled out of the doorway,
The Mice tumbled out of a bundle of hay,
The brown and white Rats, and the black ones from Norway,
Screamed out, 'They are taking the horses away!'
IV
The whole of the household was filled with amazement,
The Cups and the Saucers danced madly about,
The Plates and the Dishes looked out of the casement,
The Saltcellar stood on his head with a shout,
The Spoons with a clatter looked out of the lattice,
The Mustard-pot climbed up the Gooseberry Pies,
The Soup-ladle peeped through a heap of Veal Patties,
And squeaked with a ladle-like scream of surprise.
V
The Frying-pan said, 'It's an awful delusion!'
The Tea-kettle hissed and grew black in the face;
And they all rushed downstairs in the wildest confusion,
To see the great Nutcracker-Sugar-tong race.
And out of the stable, with screamings and laughter,
(Their ponies were cream-coloured, speckled with brown,)
The Nutcrackers first, and the Sugar-tongs after,
Rode all round the yard, and then all round the town.
VI
They rode through the street, and they rode by the station,
They galloped away to the beautiful shore;
In silence they rode, and 'made no observation',
Save this: 'We will never go back any more!'
And still you might hear, till they rode out of hearing,
The Sugar-tongs snap, and the Crackers say 'crack!'
Till far in the distance their forms disappearing,
They faded away. -- And they never came back!
poem by Edward Lear
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