A Ducktail Called Stan
There was a man they called Stan the ducktail,
a well build biker with very long hair,
his real name could have been Sam
or Dick or Dirk
no one really still knows
but he carried chains
and knuckle-dusters
that he used as fighting tools
(and sometimes his bare fists did the thing)
whenever a game of cards, pool, snooker
or even darts did not go straight
he took a swing
and rumour had it that he had even
knocked some cops through shop windows,
had send them straight to hospital
he was a hippie in the time
that free love and marijuana
was in some circles acceptable
and this bloke had many friends,
a gang full of them
that used to party with him
with chicks near Brakpan dam
drinking champagne, beer and cane,
or whatever liquor
they could lay their hands on
and to all the schoolboys Stan
was the man, the archetype
of what they wanted to become
what they used to call:
“a mean fighting machine, ”
and some parents did not want them
to associate with what they called
ducktail scum, even went as far
as warning the kids in the Sunday school
against Stan, hippies and ducktails in general
and to live a honest respectable life
and held a prayer meeting
where they begged God to intervene
in the life of Stan
and to this day they believe that He did
and one day just to have some fun
Stan was breaking shop windows
in the main street, waiting on the police
to come and meet him
with drawn batons and fists
and the big well build expected six
were hanging back
and a young lean cop walked right up to him,
tried to make an arrest
and the rest is history.
Stan smiled at the young man
lifted his huge right fist,
but it went right over the cop’s head
and he got one hell of a punch
on his own jaw instead,
was knocked right from his feet,
landed unconscious in the street,
waked up cuffed in a police cell
and it was totally beyond him
that a small lean policeman
had given him a beating
and it was the last trouble
that the town, the police and people
in the local hotels and bars
ever had with Stan
and what had become of him
no one knows.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Related quotes
The men from the pans
In Brakpan at a time
lived a breaker
build very well
like a young Tarzan,
that kicked in shop windows
and caused amuck
to get a fight
with the police
and then hit
six or seven of them
into the hospital.
Till one day
that a small young policeman
gave him
a knock out punch
and his giant legs
folded in beneath him
and unconscious
he dropped to the ground
to open his eyes
in a cell.
When he got up
he hooked both of his thumbs
in his braces,
shook his head
and couldn’t understand
that such a small guy
could hit him off his feet
and though deep
about what to do
and decided then and there
to stop his wiles
poem by Gert Strydom
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New Words They Said
89 on his back caught
a football and run, run
chase by everybody
cornerback on goal line
somersaulted and landed
on his feet; what a rupture
tebow that, he has end game
four interceptions isn't pretty
nor bungabunga for fans
ubeki beki beki stan stan
oh! baby baby baby nice tan
could be one of candidates
poem by Manonton Dalan
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Stanley's Plight
When Stan came back
to work last Monday
his tool box
wasn’t to be found.
Look and look he surely did
but it wasn’t on the ground.
Yet poor old Stan - did search and search
around & round & round.
He was a little muddled
he probably would be still
if Zub he hadn’t seen
he would be raging still.
When all at once he heard a cry
his tools could be found up high.
He took a ladder and with haste
was up it like a race,
but when he next looked at that space -
the ladder was gone, without a trace.
Rant and rave he may as well
for Stan could only fume
yet it wasn’t long at all my friend
until he was on the moon.
For there at last his pride and joy
among the years of dust and gloom.
Now our man Ouggy was no mug
though capable of a fierce bear hug.
Swiftly he did grasp a length of rope
without it even he, was without hope.
Around his brown toolbox
he tied his knot;
and proceeded promptly to lower it down
till he had it safely, on the ground.
Yet alas, at this stage his luck went sour
it was not to be his finest hour.
Upon the scene appeared two goons
‘twas lecherous Lewis and his side-kick Craig
they were about to steal the stage
or should I say, the precious box?
Now Stan up high still was stuck
when they ran off with his hard-won luck.
Remembering back I can see it still
Stan roaring off like an Elephant Bull
chasing lecherous Lewis and sneaky Craig;
like a gleeless Elephant Mother
chasing off after her missing cow.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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50 Ways To Leave Your Lover
50 ways to leave your lover
Words & music by paul simon
The problem is all inside your head, she said to me
The answer is easy if you take it logically
Id like to help you in your struggle to be free
There must be fifty ways to leave your lover
She said its really not my habit to intrude
Furthermore, I hope my meaning wont be lost or misconstrued
But Ill repeat myself at the risk of being crude
There must be fifty ways to leave your lover
Fifty ways to leave your lover
Just slip out the back, jack
Make a new plan, stan
You dont need to be coy, roy
Just get yourself free
Hop on the bus, gus
You dont need to discuss much
Just drop off the key, lee
And get yourself free
Just slip out the back, jack
Make a new plan, stan
You dont need to be coy, roy
Just listen to me <-----------
Hop on the bus, gus
You dont need to discuss much
Just drop off the key, lee
And get yourself free
She said it grieves me so to see you in such pain
I wish there was something I could do to make you smile again
I said I appreciate that and would you please explain
About the fifty ways
She said why dont we both just sleep on it tonight
And I believe in the morning youll begin to see the light
And then she kissed me and I realized she probably was right
There must be fifty ways to leave your lover
Fifty ways to leave your lover
Just slip out the back, jack
Make a new plan, stan
You dont need to be coy, roy
Just get yourself free
Hop on the bus, gus
You dont need to discuss much
Just drop off the key, lee
And get yourself free
You just slip out the back, jack
Make a new plan, stan
You dont need to be coy, roy
Just listen to me <------------
Hop on the bus, gus
You dont need to discuss much
Just drop off the key, lee
And get yourself free
song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That's The Way To Do It (aka Odd Job Man)
Now I've been here and I've been there
And I've been almost everywhere
There's not a thing I can't repair
Cos I'm Stan, Yes I am
The odd job man
I'm a tradesman, I know all the tricks
There's not a thing that I cannot fix
Beginners use my concrete mix
I'm Stan yes I am, The odd job man
Well, thats the way to do it
Just be as quick as a flash
Don't hang about
Just in and out
And always ask for cash
Any job that you want done
Phone me up cos Im the one
Electrical, plumbing, woodwork too
I'll do the job that's right for you
Well, that's the way to do it
Just be as quick as a flash
Don't hang about
Just in and out
And always ask for cash
I've never done the same job twice
Listen to me take my advice
I'll double the work for half the price
The finished job will look, look nice
I've been around and had some fun
There's not a job that I've not done
No unemployment where I'm from
Jack of all trades, master of none
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Looking-Glass
DINAH stan' befo' de glass,
Lookin' moughty neat,
An' huh purty shadder sass
At huh haid an' feet.
While she sasshay 'roun' an' bow,
Smilin' den an' poutin' now,
An' de lookin'-glass, I 'low
Say: 'Now, ain't she sweet?'
All she do, de glass it see,
Hit des see, no mo',
Seems to me, hit ought to be
Drappin' on de flo'.
She go w'en huh time git slack,
Kissin' han's an' smilin' back,
Lawsy, how my lips go smack,
Watchin' at de do'.
Wisht I was huh lookin'-glass,
W'en she kissed huh han';
Does you t'ink I'd let it pass,
Settin' on de stan'?
No; I'd des' fall down an' break,
Kin' o' glad 't uz fu' huh sake;
But de diffunce, dat whut make
Lookin'-glass an' man.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Thats The Way To Do It
Now Ive been here and Ive been there
And Ive been almost everywhere
Theres not a thing I cant repair
Cos Im stan, yes I am,
The odd job man
Im a tradesman, I know all the tricks
Theres not a thing that I cannot fix
Beginners use my concrete mix
Im stan yes I am, the odd job man
Well, thats the way to do it
Just be as quick as a flash
Dont hang about
Just in and out
And always ask for cash
Any job that you want done,
Phone me up cos Im the one
Electrical, plumbing, woodwork too
Ill do the job thats right for you
Well, thats the way to do it
Just be as quick as a flash
Dont hang about
Just in and out
And always ask for cash
Ive never done the same job twice,
Listen to me take my advice
Ill double the work for half the price
The finished job will look, look nice
Ive been around and had some fun
Theres not a job that Ive not done
No unemployment where Im from
Jack of all trades, master of none
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stan said he used to keep Hardy late, make him miss his golf game, and really get him mad.
quote by Dick Van Dyke
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I make my own limits which are drawn according to my own taste.
quote by Stan Sakai
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Future Affects the Past
The universe has no single history. Light from some quasar
At a distance unholy
Can now be interrupted,
Thus making its origin different,
Shifting time and space itself.
If my own life were to intervene
With all my past mistakes,
The thousands of them,
And those boats I sank
Could be righted,
I would leap at the chance.
My first real love,
A sweet and brilliant girl,
Would be here with me right now;
Then there being no single reason to write this,
As we, in that reality,
Are quite engaged
In each other's hair.
poem by Stan Petrovich
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Criminal Justice
My brother and I were falsely
Convicted for the rape and slaughter
Of a 13-year-old girl; but we weren't
There: we were shooting pool.
Because the police knew we held
No patriotic glee, they assumed too much,
And us they prosecuted.
Years of justice blind, dead-brained
Words striving to become lofty and eternal,
And eyewitnesses without wit,
Put us in the penitentiary.
Then, after twenty-two years,
The DNA surfacing like a submarine,
Cleared our names. They let us go
With a heartfelt apology.
But one learns a thing or two in prison:
Now, on foggy mornings, during school days,
Look yonder into the haze-
And feel the disturbed gut
Hovering at the very end
Of the playground breached.
poem by Stan Petrovich
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If you had a face like mine, you'd punch me right on the nose, and I'm just the fella to do it.
quote by Stan Laurel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Angelic Me
My teacher told me to behave
But behaving’s what I never craved
She thought I acted too outlandish
Just being me was too out-Stan-dish
The girl’s pigtail in the inkwell soaked
How it got there was my little joke
I whistled when teacher turned her back
Music’s what our classroom lacked
To the principals’ office I was sent
It clearly became a daily event
She told him I was rude and frightful
Yet my friends in class thought me delightful
My mother when she came to school
He told her I was the classroom fool
She didn’t believe that awful man
Could say that of her angel Stan
Whistlers’ mother, she knew best
She knew her son was not a pest
So much to my teachers’ dismay
I was back in class the very next day
The inkwell reclaimed that girls’ pigtail
The teacher warned, but to no avail
Behind back whistles, once more the norm
Angelic me was back in form
poem by Stanley Cooper
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The Delinquent
GOO'-BY, Jinks, I got to hump,
Got to mek dis pony jump;
See dat sun a-goin' down
'N' me a-foolin' hyeah in town!
Git up, Suke — go long!
Guess Mirandy'll think I's tight,
Me not home an' comin' on night.
What's dat stan'in' by de fence?
Pshaw! why don't I lu'n some sense?
Git up, Suke — go long!
Guess I spent down dah at Jinks'
Mos' a dollah fur de drinks.
Bless yo'r soul, you see dat star?
Lawd, but won't Mirandy rar?
Git up, Suke — go long!
Went dis mo'nin', hyeah it's night,
Dab's de cabin dah in sight.
Who's dat stan'in' in de do'?
Dat must be Mirandy, sho',
Git up, Suke — go long!
Got de close-stick in huh han',
Dat look funny, goodness lan',
Sakes alibe, but she look glum!
Hyeah, Mirandy, hyeah I come!
Git up, Suke — go long!
Ef 't hadn't a be'n fur you, you slow ole fool,
I'd a' be'n home long fo' now!
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Immortals Of The Silver Screen - Laurel and Hardy
This the beginning of a series
in which I’ll pay tribute to
some of my silver screen heroes.
First in the series just has to be
the best and the most loved
comedy duo who ever lived.
They have filled our world with laughter
while they were alive,
and are still doing it now
after they are long gone.
They were stars in their own right,
but together they soared to new heights.
They inspired a generation of comedians then
and they are inspiring generations now.
Two very talented men,
one from England - Stan Laurel.
One from America - Oliver Hardy.
Although their credits
do not always appear on their films,
they were a lot more than mere actors.
They wrote, directed and produced
hundreds and hundreds of films.
They first met as actor and director.
As Stan directed many of Oliver’s early films.
It was Mack Sennett who really set the world alight
when he put them together under the camera and spotlight.
He didn’t realise what he had done when he put together a team
who became friends, best friends
until death took both of them away.
This is just a small tribute from one of the millions
who have derived pleasure
from these two immortals
whose laughter will live on forever.
26 December 2007
poem by David Harris
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Two Little Boots
TWO little boots all rough an' wo',
Two little boots!
Laws, I's kissed 'em times befo',
Dese little boots!
Seems de toes a-peepin' thoo
Dis hyeah hole an' sayin' 'Boo!'
Evah time dey looks at you —
Dese little boots.
Membah de time he put 'em on,
Dese little boots;
Riz an' called fu' 'em by dawn,
Dese little boots;
Den he tromped de livelong day,
Laffin' in his happy way,
Evaht'ing he had to say,
'My little boots!'
Kickin' de san' de whole day long,
Dem little boots;
Good de cobblah made 'em strong,
Dem little boots!
Rocks was fu' dat baby's use,
I'on had to stan' abuse
W'en you tu'ned dese champeens loose
Dese little boots!
Ust to make de ol' cat cry,
Dese little boots;
Den you walked it mighty high,
Proud little boots!
Ahms akimbo, stan'in' wide,
Eyes a-sayin' 'Dis is pride!'
Den de manny-baby stride!
You little boots.
Somehow, you don' seem so gay,
Po' little boots,
Sence yo' ownah went erway,
Po' little boots!
Yo' bright tops don' look so red,
Dese brass tips is dull an' dead;
'Goo'-by,' whut de baby said;
Deah little boots!
Ain't you kin' o' sad yo'se'f,
You little boots?
Dis is all his mammy's lef',
Two little boots.
Sence huh baby gone an' died,
Heav'n itse'f hit seem to hide
Des a little bit inside
Two little boots.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Street Fighting Man
Everywhere I hear the sound of marching, charging feet, boy
cause summers here and the time is right for fighting in the street, boy
Tell me what can a poor boy do
cept for sing for a rock n roll band
cause in this sleepy l.a. town
Theres just no place for a street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
Do you think the time is right for a palace revolution
Where I live the game to play is compromise solution
Well then what can a poor boy
cept for sing for a rock n roll band
cause in this sleepy l.a. town
Theres just no place for a street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
Well what else can a poor boy do?
Well what else can a poor boy do?
Well what else can a poor boy do?
Well what else can a poor boy do?
Hey my name is called disturbance
Ill shout and scream, Ill kill the king, Ill rail at all his servants
Well what can a poor boy do
For sing for a rock n roll band
In this sleepy l.a. town
Theres just no place for
For a street fighting man
A street fighting man
For a street fighting man
A street fighting man
For a street fighting man
A street fighting man
For a street fighting man
A street fighting man
For a street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
song performed by by Rage Against The Machine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blue Motel
This is the night I feared most:
Coming at me straight and dirty,
Cringing, smoking next to filmy windows,
Worried if I'm the saddest man, coast-to-coast,
A clown in a cheap brown suit.
No wonder I'm beating a retreat:
She slandered my earnestness with him;
I caught them to the brim
Going at it, so I split.
And my cheap brown suit
Reflects neon blue
On this sordid bed I slouch upon.
Close by but on the far side of town,
Taunted by the moon,
Whose company I will keep, forever,
Soon, so soon.
poem by Stan Petrovich
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If you plan to win as I do, the game never ends.
quote by Stan Mikita
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Inner-City Nights
Gangs of teenagers hanging about
the smell of dope in the air
girls scream and run around
every evening they are there.
Even when it rains they turn up
a shop doorway or bus stop will do
there to drink bottles of cider
and to smoke and sniff glue.
Nervous people peep out
at the sound of very loud noise
but the police won't come out
they can't arrest young girls or boys.
Bring back national service
says the elderly gentleman
as a drunken teenager
throws at him an empty beer can.
Adults long for peace and quiet
but the yobs just want to make noise
but they know they'll get away it
as police can't arrest young boys.
poem by Kevin Halls
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