These Are Desperate Times For You, Aren't They?
If,
I were fed pigeon...
Would I then have pigeon vision?
If I were a duck,
After being plucked...
Would I then run out of luck?
And if I had an oink,
But a sheep I thought myself to be.
Would I want my pork chops fried...
Knowing a pig was meant to be my destiny.
And if I sneezed by a bee...
Will that bee that buzzed believe,
What I did was dumb...
To deserve a stinging,
Stung done that comes.
And if I had an oink,
But a sheep I thought myself to be...
Ooo ooo weeee.
Would that bee that did the stinging,
Wish it had hooves...
And,
Kicked me in the knee!
'These are desperate times for you,
Aren't they? '
Why do you say that?
'Your stimulus package,
Seems to lack stimuli.
And...
I am concerned for your well being.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Oink Oink
1
oink oink the pig goes forth
he desides to raise a toast
with his little shoe lace tale he swats away some flies
which hower above his pig stye
2
oink oink the pig goes forth
he is gready for his meal
oinking away as if it was'nt such a big deal
he float all over his own fices to keep him cool
looking like the king of fools
3
oink oink the pig goes forth
his stout is round and his nostrils flare
he run's arond the farm as if he was the only one their
teh insects stck to his pink fur
maknign his vision a bit blurr
4
oink oink the pig goes forth
running around in circles in search of food
oh theirs so much litter for him to feed
his eyes pop out with joy, and say what a feast
5
oink oink the pig goes forth
his hoves make foot prints on the wet soil
as he floats over the mud
and comes crashing down with a thud
6
oink oink the pig goes forth
he stinks of litter and of a ditch
life for him is such a bitch
soon he will be cut up and packed into a sausage
eaten in resturants before the caramel pudding
7
oink oink the pig goes forth
he has flees stuck on to his skin
as he cries out and makes a din
stories are written on his wisdom too
animal farm and many more
8
oink oink the pig goes forth
he is an animal always rebuked
he will float on his own puke
severd as a sausage and a salami
you can have him as a roast
he makes a great meal for any host
10
oink oink the pig goes forth
he featues in hollywood films too
a the talking pig in a film called babe
a sheep herder the taking pig
he will with his hoves big craters dig
oink oink the pig goes forth..........................................
poem by Anuj Tikku
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Old Macdonald
(words & music by randy starr)
Old macdonald had a farm, ee-i-ee-i-o
And on that farm he had some chicks, ee-i-ee-i-o
With a cluck, cluck here, a cluck, cluck there
Loud as they could be
And when those chicks got out of line
Chicken fricasse
With a cluck, cluck here, a cluck, cluck there
Loud as they could be
And when those chicks got out of line
Chicken fricasse
Well, old macdonald had a farm, ee-i-ee-i-o
And on that farm he had some cows, ee-i-ee-i-o
With a moo, moo here, a moo, moo there
Cattle everywhere
And when those cows got out of line
Hamburger, medium rare
With a moo, moo here, a moo, moo there
Cattle everywhere
And when those cows got out of line
Hamburger, medium rare
Ohh, well, old macdonald had a farm, ee-i-ee-i-o
And on that farm he had some pigs, ee-i-ee-i-o
With an oink, oink here, an oink, oink there
Pigs everywhere in sight
And when those pigs got out of line
Pork and beans at night
With an oink, oink here, an oink, oink there
Pigs everywhere in sight
And when those pigs got out of line
Pork and beans at night
Well Im goona have a farm one day, ee-i-e-i-o
And Ill do things mcdonalds way, ee-i-e-i-o
With a cluck, cluck here, a cluck, cluck there
A moo, moo here, a moo, moo there
An oink, oink here, an oink, oink there
And I can promise you
If those animals ever get out of line
Well have a mulligan stew
How about you?
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hiding With A Squab
'Have you run out of luck? '
Said the goose who left a flock of geese,
On an approach...
To what was thought,
To be a sitting duck plucked.
~No not at all.~
Replied a nearby pigeon,
Practicing ventriloquism...
And hiding with a squab,
Of witnessing young pigeons.
~My family and I,
Have grown tired of berries, popcorn and nuts.
And we decided to use a decoy,
To see what showed up.
But to my surprise,
A nosey goose has arrived.
Strutting with a pulchritude...
To annoy a duck...
My uncle disguised.
Telling me that I had talents,
The family thought could be put to better use.
And here you come strutting...
Believing a plucked duck has run out of luck,
When tonight a family of pigeons....
Are going to feast on cooked goose.
Something to feed the younger pigeons,
To lift them with an ego boost!
Get 'em boys! ~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Ruby Baby (Party LP Outtake)
No, Rock and Roll, this is how you do rock n' roll
Rockin' Ruby
Here's how you sing it
Well now I gotta girl now and Ruby is her name
Let's see I need some beat boys
Well this girl don't love me, but I love her just the same
Pick it up boys
Woah oh oh Ruby Ruby
How I want you
Like a ghost I'm a gonna haunt you
Ruby Ruby, Ruby will you be mine
Ruby Ruby Ruby Baby
Well now each time I see you, baby my heart cries
Ruby Ruby Ruby Baby
Ah it does Ruby
Well now I'm gonna steal you away from all those guys
Ruby Ruby Ruby Baby
Whoa oh oh oh oh oh
From the happy day I met you
I made a bet that I was gonna get you
Umm?
Ruby will you be mine
Let's oink awhile
oink oink
oink oink
bow
oink oink bow
Whoa oh oh oh oh
bow
oink oink
woof woof
Well I gotta girl I said Ruby is her name
What's her name?
Ruby
Carol
When this girl looks at me she just sets my soul aflame
Ruby Ruby Ruby Baby
Whoa oh oh oh oh
Forgot it
What are you gonna do now?
Aba zaba aba zaba zaba doo
Ruby Ruby Ruby Ruby Ruby Ruby Baby
You always forget the words, every time
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Stinging From A Venomous Tongue
What's been done...
Will always come back to be,
Left for another...
To be delivered,
And...received.
With a stinging from a venomous tongue.
And a stunning meaning to leave stung.
What's been done...
Will always come back to be,
Left for another...
To be delivered,
And...received.
With a stinging from a venomous tongue.
And a stunning meaning to leave stung.
And,
Deserved...
When,
Someone gets to receive...
A stunning meaning to leave stung.
From,
A stinging from a venomous tongue.
A stinging from a venomous tongue.
And,
Deserved...
When someone gets to receive,
A...
Stunning meaning to leave stung.
From...
Someone with a venomous tongue.
And a stinging of it meant to be done.
It's...
Deserved!
When someone gets to receive,
A...
Stunning meaning to leave stung.
From...
Someone with a venomous tongue.
And a stinging of it meant to be done.
A stinging of it meant to be done.
It's...
Deserved!
When someone gets to receive,
A stinging from a venomous tongue.
And a stinging of it meant to be done.
From someone with a venomous tongue.
It is deserved...
When someone gets to receive,
A...
Stinging from a venomous tongue.
With a venom spewed from someone.
It is deserved...
When someone gets to receive,
A...
Stinging from a venomous tongue.
With a venom spewed from someone.
It is deserved...
When someone gets to receive,
A...
Stinging from a venomous tongue.
With a venom spewed from someone.
It is deserved...
When someone gets to receive,
A...
Stinging from a venomous tongue.
With a venom spewed from someone.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Confused Birds
Sometimes things happen the way you don't want them to,
There was a Pigeon and a Dove to guide the life through,
Together they ate, Together they flew,
The pigeon was ready to wait a life long,
But the Dove had a rough stance that you move on,
The Dove always wanted the Pigeon to be comfortable,
But always thrash think that she didn't deserve such awesome individual,
The matter was closely watched by a gardener,
He called them...
The Confused Birds.
poem by Vikrant Jog
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Shepherd's Dream
A silly shepherd lately sat
Among a flock of sheep;
Where musing long on this and that,
At last he fell asleep.
And in the slumber as he lay,
He gave a piteous groan;
He thought his sheep were run away,
And he was left alone.
He whoop'd, he whistled, and he call'd,
But not a sheep came near him;
Which made the shepherd sore appall'd
To see that none would hear him.
But as the swain amazèd stood,
In this most solemn vein,
Came Phyllida forth of the wood,
And stood before the swain.
Whom when the shepherd did behold
He straight began to weep,
And at the heart he grew a-cold,
To think upon his sheep.
For well he knew, where came the queen,
The shepherd durst not stay:
And where that he durst not be seen,
The sheep must needs away.
To ask her if she saw his flock,
Might happen patience move,
And have an answer with a mock,
That such demanders prove.
Yet for because he saw her come
Alone out of the wood,
He thought he would not stand as dumb,
When speech might do him good;
And therefore falling on his knees,
To ask but for his sheep,
He did awake, and so did leese
The honour of his sleep.
poem by Nicholas Breton
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Fireball Xl5
Ive saved a little bit of money from christmas gone,
What with my birthday nearly due,
Im dressing up as guy in the shopping arcade,
Have you a penny for a boy named blue ?
Ive seen it advertised on tv shows,
Flashed up on the evening news,
My local m.p. said I should grin and bear it,
But Id rather go and blow her fuse,
Right on, right off!
Right off, right on.
Right on, right off!
Right off, right on.
Let me tell you a little tale of naughtys,
On the estate I used to loathe,
I aimed 30 rockets at a shilling each,
You should have seen their front doors go,
Right on, right off!
Right off, right on.
Right on, right off!
Right off, right on.
Let it talk cb
Fireball xl sitting in the window,
Just waiting for a match to come,
Youre looking so so sad in your pretty coloured frock,
Dont let that make up on your eye balls run.
I got my little lot of money from a cherished friend,
His name was piggy but he wasnt to know,
He hit my god-damn hammer like a wall of bricks,
You should have seen his pig tail go,
Right on, right off!
Right off, right on.
Right on, right off!
Right off, right on.
Fireball xl propped up at my window,
Wondering what on earth its to do!
Now that its gone from the window of the shopping arcade,
Everybodys looking for a boy named blue.
Blue who
Blue who
Blue who
Blue who
Quack, quack, quack, quack.
Oink, oink, oink, oink.
Woof, woof, woof, woof.
Bridit, bridit, bridit, bridit.
Albert, albert.
Dont call us well call you.
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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After The Great Flood
after the great flood
it was the black crow which was first
allowed to fly,
Moses had confidence on its
aggression,
it did not come back you know that well,
it puked on dead flesh and
flew away
deciding on its own now
charting its own
destiny,
then it was the pigeon's turn to serve
coy and shy and yet obedient
it came back with a twig and a leaf
whether this is all symbolism or not
an interplay and contrast between black and white
crow and pigeon, good or evil
disobedience or impunity, i don't
go into a hairsplitting
or argument with you
but i have to admit, i like to be that black crow.
i never want to be the pigeon that you believe i am.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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That Pigeon
Tony just brought
a pigeon
in his house
put it in a cage and
feed it
some grains
beside a bowl of
water
Every night since then
i cannot sleep
hearing always the sound
of a sobbing woman
grieving
i keep telling myself
that it is just
a pigeon temporarily
adopting to a momentary loss
of her freedom
Horrible nights
lots of horrible nights
the sounds of groaning griefs
are penetrating the walls of my mind
until one day
the pigeon died and Tony buried it
beside his house
now the pebbles are giving me
the silence of the dead
the air is so quiet
looking at an empty cage
somehow i feel guilty
not about the pigeon but about Tony
well, the story is quite long
what business do i have there?
last night i was thinking
what if it was Tony who died
and the pigeon went out of that cage
and buried him there
beside that lonely house?
shall i not hear the grieving sounds of
that pigeon again?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Up North
Oh, Bill and Joe to the north have gone,
A green shirt on their back;
There are not many ewes and lambs
Along Kokoda track.
There are not many ewes and lambs,
But men in single file
Like sheep along a mountain pad
Walk mile on sweating mile;
And each half-hour they change the lead,
Though I have never read
Where any fat bell-whether was
Shot, in the mountains, dead.
The only sheep they muster there
Leap through the mind at night;
'Twould be as red as marking time
To change green shirt for white.
And though Bill dreams of droving now
On the drought-coloured plain,
There's little need to tap the glass
Or pray for it to rain.
They have no lack of water there
But there is a stinging tail,
For men lie dying in the grass
Along Kokoda trail.
poem by David Campbell
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The Black Sheep
'Black sheep, black sheep, have you any wool?'
'Yes, sir-yes, sir: three bags full.'
'I don't want any New Thought,' said he,
'Or any Theosophy, for, you see,
The faith I learned at my mother's knee
Is good enough for me.
Of course, I'm a wee bit broader than she,
Hearing one sermon where she heard three,
And I read my paper on Sunday, instead
Of the Bible only. My mother said
I was a black sheep, when she saw
I strayed a trifle away from the law,
And didn't think everyone left in the lurch
Who happened to go to a different church;
But, still, in the main, her creed is mine,
And I don't want anything more divine.'
Yet his mother's mother was more austere;
She taught her children a creed of fear,
And she called them 'black sheep' when, with a shock,
She saw them straying away from the flock,
Just far enough
To get around places they thought too rough,
Like infant damnation and endless hell.
But his mother's mother's mother would tell
How her mother thought it was God's sweet will
To punish and torture a heretic till
They drove out the devil that made him dare
Think for himself in the matter of prayer
And faith and salvation. So we see how it is
If we look back over the centuries-
The creeds men learned at their mother's knee
When Salem witches were hanged to a tree,
And the pious dames flocked thither to see,
Are not deemed Christian or holy to-day;
And the bold black sheep who went straying away
From rut-worn paths in their search for God,
And leaped over the fence into pastures broad,
Are the great trail-makers for mortal souls,
Leading the race up to higher goals
And a larger religion; where man must find
God dwelling ever within his mind,
Christ in his conduct, and heaven in his thought,
And hell but the places where love is not.
A mighty religion that makes this earth
But the cradle that fits us for death's new birth
And the life beyond it, that is so near
Its echoes may reach to the listening ear.
'Black sheep, black sheep, have you any wool?'
'Yes, sir-yes, sir: a whole world full.'
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Toy Master
ah, sweet little children
and their loving parents
all rolling merrily
into the fair
from happy homes
near and far
come, see my toys
my colorful toys
and dolls made
in various countries
for all good little children
of our bright world
there are toy soldiers
and there are ballerinas;
there are ducks
and pigeons
and this little pig goes:
Oink! Oink! Oink!
and this donkey replies:
Hee-haw! Hee-haw!
see this train
with its green lights;
and you’ll all
love this dancing girl
who comes alive
with just three turns
of the silver key
and with a flick of the switch
this joyous fat grandpa
laughs and raises his hands in glee;
and you can -
dearest children
and most generous parents -
make me joyous too
if you just buy a toy
and dropp the coins
in my toy bank
just before you
ah, sweet little children
and their loving parents
all rolling merrily
into the fair
from happy homes
near and far
come, see my toys
my colorful toys
and dolls made
in various countries
for all good little children
of our bright world
poem by Raj Arumugam
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The only difference between a pigeon and the American farmer today is that a pigeon can still make a deposit on a John Deere.
quote by Jim Hightower
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mr. Sheep
Golly, mister, where you going? you'll be late for work careful or you'll drop your briefcase jesus, what a jerk there he goes down to the subway off to catch the train too bad for him he forgot
Umbrella poor mr. sheep you're wet mr. sheep walk on, mr. sheep walk on tell me, how's your little family? how's your little wife? are you going to live with these monsters for the rest of your
Maybe you got a little girlfriend stashed somewhere in town may be you ain't got a little girlfriend ha ha ha ha ha poor mr. sheep he's a lonely guy too walk on mr. sheep walk on dance, mister!
He's doin' ok oh, oh oh, he's all right let him get up by himself now i don't want to be too rough and i don't want to be too mean you're right - this world is awful tough i know exactly what y
An but i want you to know exactly how i feel and to tell you the truth right now i feel like going i feel like going baa baa mr. sheep careful, you're walking all over your own self now walk on,
Sheep walk on, mr. sheep walk
On, mr. sheep walk on
song performed by by Randy Newman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sheeple
They follow each other like sheep
Maybe because of coloring, or with their own they keep
Not knowing where they are going so they just follow
One after another, up the road or in a hollow,
They all are weak and meek and so easily led
Sadly like sheep they know not of the dangers up ahead,
So they follow and follow as that is their norm
To follow in the mainstream and to their own they conform
They are led by their shepherd wherever that he might go
And they believe what he believes, but they know not what he does know.
They do their following without thought or thinking
They are acquiesce, without remorse or blinking
Thinking themselves not as individuals, but only as a group
All they seek is one to follow, someone to lead their troop
Following because of others or because they are adherent or devout
To the belief of someone else and even the lies from their mouth
They are told what to see and what they know and what to do
Sadly in their life and other matters they do not have a clue
These followers are unimaginative, submissive people
They are brothers to the sheep, known only as sheeple.
poem by Randy McClave
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The Dilettante And The Critic
A BOY a pigeon once possess'd,
In gay and brilliant plumage dress'd;
He loved it well, and in boyish sport
Its food to take from his mouth he taught,
And in his pigeon he took such pride,
That his joy to others he needs must confide.
An aged fox near the place chanc'd to dwell,
Talkative, clever, and learned as well;
The boy his society used to prize,
Hearing with pleasure his wonders and lies.
"My friend the fox my pigeon must see
He ran, and stretch'd 'mongst the bushes lay he
"Look, fox, at my pigeon, my pigeon so fair!
His equal I'm sure thou hast look'd upon ne'er!"
"Let's see!"--The boy gave it.--"'Tis really not bad;
And yet, it is far from complete, I must add.
The feathers, for, instance, how short! 'Tis absurd!"
So he set to work straightway to pluck the poor bird.
The boy screamed.--"Thou must now stronger pinions supply,
Or else 'twill be ugly, unable to fly."--
Soon 'twas stripp'd--oh, the villain!--and torn all to pieces.
The boy was heart-broken,--and so my tale ceases.
He who sees in the boy shadow'd forth his own case,
Should be on his guard 'gainst the fox's whole race.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Sheep
Sometimes I get so angry with the simple life they lead
The shepherds smile seems to confirm my fears
Theyve never questioned anything, theyve never disagreed
Sometimes I think they must have wool in their ears
And when you see a can I see a crook
And when you see a crowd I see a flock
Its sheep were up against
Sheep were up against
When I was young they used to get me counting sheep
But the counting I did was all in vain
No when Im tired and Im trying to get to sleep
I count humans jumping onto trains
And when you see a can I see a crook
And when you see a crowd I see a flock
Its sheep were up against
Sheep were up against
[influential guitar break]
And when you see a can I see a crook
And when you see a crowd I see a flock
Its sheep were up against
Sheep were up against
song performed by by Housemartins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Unmistakably Awake
That which is done to another,
With an intention to induce a harm.
That leaves a stinging one intends to bring,
With an intention meant.
A forgiveness may take place,
But the fact of the act can not be erased.
No matter if what one has done has been mentioned,
As a mistake!
What had been done and was not faked.
Came from a consciousness unmistakably awake.
And if one decides not to forgive,
With a memory not to forget.
The misdeed received was not thought of as a gift.
And forgiving actions to forget like this,
Invites a re-occurrence.
That which is done to another,
With an intention to induce a harm.
That leaves a stinging one intends to bring,
With an intention meant.
A forgiveness may take place,
But the fact of the act can not be erased.
No matter if what one has done has been mentioned,
As a mistake!
What had been done and was not faked.
Came from a consciousness unmistakably awake.
Deceivers believe their misdeeds can be repeated!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Cumoulous
On the sun-deck I saw two big clouds a man one
and a female, they met kissed and the man cloud
was transformed into a plucked chicken.
Not that the female cloud fared better for behind
her came huge troll cloud that absorbed her up its
nostrils. In the world of clouds you never see
the same formation twice, in this immaterial ever
changing world; it is as the saying goes: You can´t
cross the same river twice. Now a massive dark cloud
erased the picture, and as I didn´t want a drab cloud
hanging over me, I got up walked into the galley and
had a mug of coffee, while the cook fried pork chops.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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