The Raggedy Man
1 O the Raggedy Man! He works fer Pa;
2 An' he's the goodest man ever you saw!
3 He comes to our house every day,
4 An' waters the horses, an' feeds 'em hay;
5 An' he opens the shed -- an' we all ist laugh
6 When he drives out our little old wobble-ly calf;
7 An' nen -- ef our hired girl says he can --
8 He milks the cow fer 'Lizabuth Ann. --
9 Ain't he a' awful good Raggedy Man?
10 Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man!
11 W'y, The Raggedy Man -- he's ist so good,
12 He splits the kindlin' an' chops the wood;
13 An' nen he spades in our garden, too,
14 An' does most things 'at boys can't do. --
15 He clumbed clean up in our big tree
16 An' shooked a' apple down fer me --
17 An' 'nother 'n', too, fer 'Lizabuth Ann --
18 An' 'nother 'n', too, fer The Raggedy Man. --
19 Ain't he a' awful kind Raggedy Man?
20 Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man!
21 An' The Raggedy Man one time say he
22 Pick' roast' rambos from a' orchurd-tree,
23 An' et 'em -- all ist roast' an' hot! --
24 An' it's so, too! -- 'cause a corn-crib got
25 Afire one time an' all burn' down
26 On "The Smoot Farm," 'bout four mile from town --
27 On "The Smoot Farm"! Yes -- an' the hired han'
28 'At worked there nen 'uz The Raggedy Man! --
29 Ain't he the beatin'est Raggedy Man?
30 Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man!
31 The Raggedy Man's so good an' kind
32 He'll be our "horsey," an' "haw" an' mind
33 Ever'thing 'at you make him do --
34 An' won't run off -- 'less you want him to!
35 I drived him wunst way down our lane
36 An' he got skeered, when it 'menced to rain,
37 An' ist rared up an' squealed and run
38 Purt' nigh away! -- an' it's all in fun!
39 Nen he skeered ag'in at a' old tin can ...
40 Whoa! y' old runaway Raggedy Man!
41 Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man!
42 An' The Raggedy Man, he knows most rhymes,
43 An' tells 'em, ef I be good, sometimes:
44 Knows 'bout Giunts, an' Griffuns, an' Elves,
45 An' the Squidgicum-Squees 'at swallers the'rselves:
46 An', wite by the pump in our pasture-lot,
47 He showed me the hole 'at the Wunks is got,
48 'At lives 'way deep in the ground, an' can
49 Turn into me, er 'Lizabuth Ann!
50 Er Ma, er Pa, er The Raggedy Man!
51 Ain't he a funny old Raggedy Man?
52 Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man!
53 An' wunst, when The Raggedy Man come late,
54 An' pigs ist root' thue the garden-gate,
55 He 'tend like the pigs 'uz bears an' said,
56 "Old Bear-shooter'll shoot 'em dead!"
57 An' race' an' chase' 'em, an' they'd ist run
58 When he pint his hoe at 'em like it's a gun
59 An' go "Bang! -- Bang!" nen 'tend he stan'
60 An' load up his gun ag'in! Raggedy Man!
61 He's an old Bear-shooter Raggedy Man!
62 Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man!
63 An' sometimes The Raggedy Man lets on
64 We're little prince-children, an' old King's gone
65 To git more money, an' lef' us there --
66 And Robbers is ist thick ever'where;
67 An' nen -- ef we all won't cry, fer shore --
68 The Raggedy Man he'll come and "'splore
69 The Castul-halls," an' steal the "gold" --
70 An' steal us, too, an' grab an' hold
71 An' pack us off to his old "Cave"! -- An'
72 Haymow's the "cave" o' The Raggedy Man! --
73 Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man!
74 The Raggedy Man -- one time, when he
75 Wuz makin' a little bow-'n'-orry fer me,
76 Says "When you're big like your Pa is,
77 Air you go' to keep a fine store like his --
78 An' be a rich merchunt -- an' wear fine clothes? --
79 Er what air you go' to be, goodness knows?"
80 An' nen he laughed at 'Lizabuth Ann,
81 An' I says "'M go' to be a Raggedy Man! --
82 I'm ist go' to be a nice Raggedy Man!"
83 Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Our Hired Girl
1 Our hired girl, she's 'Lizabuth Ann;
2 An' she can cook best things to eat!
3 She ist puts dough in our pie-pan,
4 An' pours in somepin' 'at's good an' sweet;
5 An' nen she salts it all on top
6 With cinnamon; an' nen she'll stop
7 An' stoop an' slide it, ist as slow,
8 In th' old cook-stove, so's 'twon't slop
9 An' git all spilled; nen bakes it, so
10 It's custard-pie, first thing you know!
11 An' nen she'll say,
12 "Clear out o' my way!
13 They's time fer work, an' time fer play!
14 Take yer dough, an' run, child, run!
15 Er I cain't git no cookin' done!"
16 When our hired girl 'tends like she's mad,
17 An' says folks got to walk the chalk
18 When she's around, er wisht they had!
19 I play out on our porch an' talk
20 To Th' Raggedy Man 'at mows our lawn;
21 An' he says, "Whew!" an' nen leans on
22 His old crook-scythe, and blinks his eyes,
23 An' sniffs all 'round an' says, "I swawn!
24 Ef my old nose don't tell me lies,
25 It 'pears like I smell custard-pies!"
26 An' nen he'll say,
27 "Clear out o' my way!
28 They's time fer work, an' time fer play!
29 Take yer dough, an' run, child, run!
30 Er she cain't git no cookin' done!"
31 Wunst our hired girl, when she
32 Got the supper, an' we all et,
33 An' it wuz night, an' Ma an' me
34 An' Pa went wher' the "Social" met, --
35 An' nen when we come home, an' see
36 A light in the kitchen door, an' we
37 Heerd a maccordeun, Pa says, "Lan'-
38 O'-Gracious! who can her beau be?"
39 An' I marched in, an' 'Lizabuth Ann
40 Wuz parchin' corn fer The Raggedy Man!
41 Better say,
42 "Clear out o' the way!
43 They's time fer work, an' time fer play!
44 Take the hint, an' run, child, run!
45 Er we cain't git no courtin' done!"
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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The Happy Man In The Chinese Restaurant: Part 2 You Need Money For Love
When they had all left to go to their houses or jobs
The raggedy man sad a sadder song
The raggedy man sang:
You need money for love
You need money for love.
If you want a girl with nice clean pantie
If you want a girl who smells good
If you want a girl….
You need money
You need money for love.
Little miss brag
Little Miss Brag has much to say
To the rich little lady from over the way
And the rich little lady puts out a lip
As she looks at her own white, dainty slip,
And wishes that she could wear a gown
As pretty as gingham of faded brown!
For little Miss Brag she lays much stress
On the privileges of a gingham dress -
"Aha,
Oho!"
The rich little lady from over the way
Has beautiful dolls in vast array;
Yet she envies the raggedy home-made doll
She hears our little Miss Brag extol.
For the raggedy doll can fear no hurt
From wet, or heat, or tumble, or dirt!
Her nose is inked, and her mouth is, too,
And one eye's black and the other's blue -
"Aha,
Oho!"
The rich little lady goes out to ride
With footmen standing up outside,
Yet wishes that, sometimes, after dark
Her father would trundle her in the park; -
That, sometimes, her mother would sing the things
Little Miss Brag says her mother sings
When through the attic window streams
The moonlight full of golden dreams -
"Aha,
Oho!"
Yes, little Miss Brag has much to say
To the rich little lady from over the way;
And yet who knows but from her heart
Often the bitter sighs upstart -
Uprise to lose their burn and sting
In the grace of the tongue that loves to sing
Praise of the treasures all its own!
So I've come to love that treble tone -
"Aha,
Oho!"
poem by Eugene Field
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The Bumblebee
1 You better not fool with a Bumblebee! --
2 Ef you don't think they can sting -- you'll see!
3 They're lazy to look at, an' kind o' go
4 Buzzin' an' bummin' aroun' so slow,
5 An' ac' so slouchy an' all fagged out,
6 Danglin' their legs as they drone about
7 The hollyhawks 'at they can't climb in
8 'Ithout ist a-tumble-un out ag'in!
9 Wunst I watched one climb clean 'way
10 In a jimson-blossom, I did, one day, --
11 An' I ist grabbed it -- an' nen let go --
12 An' "Ooh-ooh! Honey! I told ye so!"
13 Says The Raggedy Man; an' he ist run
14 An' pullt out the stinger, an' don't laugh none,
15 An' says: "They has be'n folks, I guess,
16 'At thought I wuz predjudust, more er less, --
17 Yit I still muntain 'at a Bumblebee
18 Wears out his welcome too quick fer me!"
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Judging Me
Isn't it funny, how you judge me?
You look at my hair and say I'm crazy
It is woolly and you call it kinky
Who cares what you think?
Judge yourself not me.
Isn't it funny, what you say about me?
You look at my clothes and say it's raggedy
It's patchy and you call it untidy.
But, that's good enough for me.
Please yourself not me.
Isn't it funny, how you think about me?
You look at my skin and think it's dirty.
I'm a farmer and I deal with dirt
Really! That does not hurt.
I live for me and not for you.
Isn't it funny, how you feel about me?
You look at me and think I'm a thief.
I till the soil so that we can eat.
I please myself and no one else.
Isn't it funny, the opinion you have about me?
You smell my sweat and say yak!
I work in the rain and get dirt and stains.
I ‘m an honest man, this you must understand.
Isn't it funny what the people talk about me?
I'm crazy, raggedy, dirty, yaky, a thief and untidy
It's too bad you don't know me
The good thing is, I am me.
poem by C. Albert Andrews
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My first four roles were all nice guys, Raggedy Man being one of them.
quote by Eric Roberts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bill Mitchell said he really liked it. But when he asked the other four their opinions, we all took one look at ourselves in our raggedy long winter coats and cracked up. We knew we weren't likely to tempt anyone or anything, but what the hell, it was as good a name as any.
quote by Otis Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Old Tramp
A Old Tramp slep' in our stable wunst,
An' The Raggedy Man he caught
An' roust him up, an' chased him off
Clean out through our back lot!
An' th' Old Tramp hollered back an' said,--
'You're a _purty_ man!--_You_ air!--
With a pair o' eyes like two fried eggs,
An' a nose like a Bartlutt pear!'
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Hangin' together
At times I look down At my raggedy-ass lil mutt
Lickin’ himself, passin’ gas
thinking’ about, only God knows what
Then he looks back up at me
And I can surely see
By that quizzical look in his eye
That he’s wonderin’ just what
That raggedly ol’ man Could be thinking’ about
Then he lays his head back down with a sigh
Then I reach down,
give his head a pat
And we take comfort, both he and I
We have this special understanding
About bacon
And about nappin’
And just hangin’ together…he and I
poem by David Whalen
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Sonnet V: Nothing But No
Nothing but "No," and "Aye," and "Aye," and "No"?
How falls it out so strangely you reply?
I tell ye, Fair, I'll not be answer'd so,
With this affirming "No," denying "Aye."
I say, "I love," you slightly answer "Aye";
I say, "You love," you pule me out a "No";
I say, "I die," you echo me an "Aye";
"Save me," I cry, you sigh me out a "No";
Must woe and I have nought but "No" and "Aye"?
No I am I, if I no more can have;
Answer no more, with silence make reply,
And let me take myself what I do crave.
Let "No" and "Aye" with I and you be so;
Then answer "No," and "Aye," and "Aye" and "No."
poem by Michael Drayton
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I Go Wild
You whipped me I'm hurting
Abused me for certain
And slavery should not exist
Is this what I get a poison kiss
Without you I'm dead meat
I'm a raggedy dog dying in the street
Of a God-forsaken shanty town
Where gangs of children are hunted down
I go wild when you're in my face
I go wild when I taste your taste
I go wild and I go insane
I get sick--somebody stop this pain
You left me I'm braindead
I'm feeling nothing strapped to my bed
On life support tubes in my nose
Tubes in my arms shot full of holes
I go wild act like a goat
And I get sick
song performed by by Rolling Stones from Voodoo Lounge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You're right—
234
You're right—"the way is narrow"—
And "difficult the Gate"—
And "few there be"—Correct again—
That "enter in—thereat"—
'Tis Costly—So are purples!
'Tis just the price of Breath—
With but the "Discount" of the Grave—
Termed by the Brokers—"Death"!
And after that—there's Heaven—
The Good Man's—"Dividend"—
And Bad Men—"go to Jail"—
I guess—
poem by Emily Dickinson
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The ABC
'Twas midnight in the schoolroom
And every desk was shut
When suddenly from the alphabet
Was heard a loud "Tut-Tut!"
Said A to B, "I don't like C;
His manners are a lack.
For all I ever see of C
Is a semi-circular back!"
"I disagree," said D to B,
"I've never found C so.
From where I stand he seems to be
An uncompleted O."
C was vexed, "I'm much perplexed,
You criticise my shape.
I'm made like that, to help spell Cat
And Cow and Cool and Cape."
"He's right" said E; said F, "Whoopee!"
Said G, "'Ip, 'Ip, 'ooray!"
"You're dropping me," roared H to G.
"Don't do it please I pray."
"Out of my way," LL said to K.
"I'll make poor I look ILL."
To stop this stunt J stood in front,
And presto! ILL was JILL.
"U know," said V, "that W
Is twice the age of me.
For as a Roman V is five
I'm half as young as he."
X and Y yawned sleepily,
"Look at the time!" they said.
"Let's all get off to beddy byes."
They did, then "Z-z-z."
poem by Spike Milligan
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What is—
215
What is—"Paradise"—
Who live there—
Are they "Farmers"—
Do they "hoe"—
Do they know that this is "Amherst"—
And that I—am coming—too—
Do they wear "new shoes"—in "Eden"—
Is it always pleasant—there—
Won't they scold us—when we're homesick—
Or tell God—how cross we are—
You are sure there's such a person
As "a Father"—in the sky—
So if I get lost—there—ever—
Or do what the Nurse calls "die"—
I shan't walk the "Jasper"—barefoot—
Ransomed folks—won't laugh at me—
Maybe—"Eden" a'n't so lonesome
As New England used to be!
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Us Two
Wherever I am, there's always Pooh,
There's always Pooh and Me.
Whatever I do, he wants to do,
"Where are you going today?" says Pooh:
"Well, that's very odd 'cos I was too.
Let's go together," says Pooh, says he.
"Let's go together," says Pooh.
"What's twice eleven?" I said to Pooh.
("Twice what?" said Pooh to Me.)
"I think it ought to be twenty-two."
"Just what I think myself," said Pooh.
"It wasn't an easy sum to do,
But that's what it is," said Pooh, said he.
"That's what it is," said Pooh.
"Let's look for dragons," I said to Pooh.
"Yes, let's," said Pooh to Me.
We crossed the river and found a few-
"Yes, those are dragons all right," said Pooh.
"As soon as I saw their beaks I knew.
That's what they are," said Pooh, said he.
"That's what they are," said Pooh.
"Let's frighten the dragons," I said to Pooh.
"That's right," said Pooh to Me.
"I'm not afraid," I said to Pooh,
And I held his paw and I shouted "Shoo!
Silly old dragons!"- and off they flew.
"I wasn't afraid," said Pooh, said he,
"I'm never afraid with you."
So wherever I am, there's always Pooh,
There's always Pooh and Me.
"What would I do?" I said to Pooh,
"If it wasn't for you," and Pooh said: "True,
It isn't much fun for One, but Two,
Can stick together, says Pooh, says he. "That's how it is," says Pooh.
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
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The mind revealed
and wouldn't it be weird
if we could click on our name page
and see - our mind!
spread out in all its random,
untidy, crossed-out, raggedy,
contradictory, half-chewed,
etc.
it just doesn't bear
half thinking about
how clever of, let's say,
Providence,
to keep it like it is, invisible; we,
letting it out under supervision,
teeth clean, polished shoes,
opinions prepared
for the lunch-break
and water cooler
and photocopier
and under supervision even more strict,
maximum security,
'association hour', when
it mixes with the lifers,
the condemned,
the emotions,
the instincts;
yes, better keep mind
behind closed doors;
there's only so much space
for the untidy,
savage,
so busy,
inconsequential,
vulnerable,
rutted,
God-given so they say
mind.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Intimacy
I hear people say, "I love my iPhone, "
Or, "I love drinking a Starbucks coffee."
Sometimes: "I love my Versace cologne, "
And also: "I love having this money."
I hear people say, "I love my Walmart, "
Or, "I love the drive-thru at Taco Bell."
"I love my TV. It's state of the art."
"I love the shoes that Nike has to sell."
I hear this: "I love American Idol, "
And, "I love a nice, cold Budweiser."
"I love medicines such as Demerol."
And, "I love my internet provider."
Yet, one thing I don't hear is, "I love you."
Saying that is too intimate to do.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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The Gardener XXVI: What Comes From Your Willing Hands
"What comes from your willing
hands I take. I beg for nothing
more."
"Yes, yes, I know you, modest
mendicant, you ask for all that one
has."
"If there be a stray flower for me
I will wear it in my heart."
"But if there be thorns?"
"I will endure them."
"Yes, yes, I know you, modest
mendicant, you ask for all that one
has."
"If but once you should raise your
loving eyes to my face it would make
my life sweet beyond death."
"But if there be only cruel
glances?"
"I will keep them piercing my
heart."
"Yes, yes, I know you, modest
mendicant, you ask for all that one
has."
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Another Acrostic ( In the style of Father William )
"Are you deaf, Father William!" the young man said,
"Did you hear what I told you just now?
"Excuse me for shouting! Don't waggle your head
"Like a blundering, sleepy old cow!
"A little maid dwelling in Wallington Town,
"Is my friend, so I beg to remark:
"Do you think she'd be pleased if a book were sent down
"Entitled 'The Hunt of the Snark?'"
"Pack it up in brown paper!" the old man cried,
"And seal it with olive-and-dove.
"I command you to do it!" he added with pride,
"Nor forget, my good fellow to send her beside
"Easter Greetings, and give her my love."
poem by Lewis Carroll
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Grandfather Squeers
'My grandfather Squeers,' said The Raggedy Man,
As he solemnly lighted his pipe and began--
'The most indestructible man, for his years,
And the grandest on earth, was my grandfather Squeers!
'He said, when he rounded his three-score-and-ten,
'I've the hang of it now and can do it again!'
'He had frozen his heels so repeatedly, he
Could tell by them just what the weather would be;
'And would laugh and declare, 'while the _Almanac_ would
Most falsely prognosticate, _he_ never could!'
'Such a hale constitution had grandfather Squeers
That, 'though he'd used '_navy_' for sixty odd years,
'He still chewed a dime's-worth six days of the week,
While the seventh he passed with a chew in each cheek:
'Then my grandfather Squeers had a singular knack
Of sitting around on the small of his back,
'With his legs like a letter Y stretched o'er the grate
Wherein 'twas his custom to ex-pec-tor-ate.
'He was fond of tobacco in _manifold_ ways,
And would sit on the door-step, of sunshiny days,
'And smoke leaf-tobacco he'd raised strictly for
The pipe he'd used all through The Mexican War.'
And The Raggedy Man said, refilling the bowl
Of his own pipe and leisurely picking a coal
From the stove with his finger and thumb, 'You can see
What a tee-nacious habit he's fastened on me!
'And my grandfather Squeers took a special delight
In pruning his corns every Saturday night
'With a horn-handled razor, whose edge he excused
By saying 'twas one that his grandfather used;
'And, though deeply etched in the haft of the same
Was the ever-euphonious Wostenholm's name,
''Twas my grandfather's custom to boast of the blade
As 'A Seth Thomas razor--the best ever made!'
'No Old Settlers' Meeting, or Pioneers' Fair,
Was complete without grandfather Squeers in the chair
'To lead off the programme by telling folks how
'He used to shoot deer where the Court-House stands now'--
'How 'he felt, of a truth, to live over the past,
When the country was wild and unbroken and vast,
''That the little log cabin was just plenty fine
For himself, his companion, and fambly of nine!--
''When they didn't have even a pump, or a tin,
But drunk surface-water, year out and year in,
''From the old-fashioned gourd that was sweeter, by odds,
Than the goblets of gold at the lips of the gods!''
Then The Raggedy Man paused to plaintively say
It was clockin' along to'rds the close of the day--
And he'd _ought_ to get back to his work on the lawn,--
Then dreamily blubbered his pipe and went on:
'His teeth were imperfect--my grandfather owned
That he couldn't eat oysters unless they were 'boned';
'And his eyes were so weak, and so feeble of sight,
He couldn't sleep with them unless, every night,
'He put on his spectacles--all he possessed,--
Three pairs--with his goggles on top of the rest.
'And my grandfather always, retiring at night,
Blew down the lamp-chimney to put out the light;
'Then he'd curl up on edge like a shaving, in bed,
And puff and smoke pipes in his sleep, it is said:
'And would snore oftentimes as the legends relate,
Till his folks were wrought up to a terrible state,--
'Then he'd snort, and rear up, and roll over; and there,
In the subsequent hush they could hear him chew air.
'And so glaringly bald was the top of his head
That many's the time he has musingly said,
'As his eyes journeyed o'er its reflex in the glass,--
'I must set out a few signs of _Keep Off the Grass!_'
'So remarkably deaf was my grandfather Squeers
That he had to wear lightning-rods over his ears
'To even hear thunder--and oftentimes then
He was forced to request it to thunder again.'
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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