En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Spats

When young I was a Socialist
Despite my tender years;
No blessed chance I ever missed
To slam the profiteers.
Yet though a fanatic I was,
And cursed aristocrats,
The Party chucked me out because
I sported Spats.

Aye, though on soap boxes I stood,
And spouted in the parks,
They grizzled that my foot-wear would
Be disavowed my Marx.
It's buttons of a pearly sheen
Bourgois they deemed and thus
They told me; 'You must choose between
Your spats and us.'

Alas! I loved my gaitered feet
Of smoothly fitting fawn;
They were so snappy and so neat,
A gift from Uncle John
Who had a fortune in the Bank
That one day might be mine:
'Give up my spats!' said I, 'I thank
You--but resign.'

Today when red or pink I see
In stripy pants of state,
I think of how they lost in me
A demon of debate.
I muse as leaders strut about
In frock-coats and high hats . . .
The bloody party chucked me out
Because of Spats.

poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Puttin On The Ritz

Have you seen the well-to-do
Up and down park avenue
On that famous thoroughfare
With their noses in the air
High hats and narrow collars
White spats and lots of dollars
Spending every dime
For a wonderful time
Now, if youre blue
And you dont know where to go to
Why dont you go where fashion sits
Puttin on the ritz
Different types who wear a daycoat
Pants with stripes and cutaway coat
Perfect fits
Puttin on the ritz
Dressed up like a million dollar trooper
Trying hard to look like gary cooper
Super-duper
Come, lets mix where rockefellers
Walk with sticks or umberellas
In their mitts
Puttin on the ritz
------ short instrumental break ------
Tips his hat just like an english chappie
To a lady with a wealthy pappy
Very snappy
Youll declare its simply topping
To be there and hear them swapping
Smart tidbits
Puttin on the ritz

song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Puttin On The Ritz

Have you seen the well-to-do
Up and down park avenue
On that famous thoroughfare
With their noses in the air
High hats and narrow collars
White spats and lots of dollars
Spending every dime
For a wonderful time
Now, if youre blue
And you dont know where to go to
Why dont you go where fashion sits
Puttin on the ritz
Different types who wear a daycoat
Pants with stripes and cutaway coat
Perfect fits
Puttin on the ritz
Dressed up like a million dollar trooper
Trying hard to look like gary cooper
Super-duper
Come, lets mix where rockefellers
Walk with sticks or umberellas
In their mitts
Puttin on the ritz
------ short instrumental break ------
Tips his hat just like an english chappie
To a lady with a wealthy pappy
Very snappy
Youll declare its simply topping
To be there and hear them swapping
Smart tidbits
Puttin on the ritz

song performed by by Irving Berlin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bombe Alaska

Bombe Alaska
(on the resignation of Sarah Palin as Alaska Governor)

I wonder what unearthly sign
told Sarah Palin to resign.
What line-up of the stars or snow
told her it was time to go?

Did the #1 dude get tough
and tell his wife enough’s enough?
Or was retreat a better plan
than public spats with Letterman?

While experts rush to make the call,
she may yet outfox us all.
Does she have a big agenda
for the twenty twelve Obama ender?

No, she’ll never dropp that bomb.
She’s just a feral soccer mom.
No more dreams of great omniscience.
She’s Palin into insignificance.

poem by Andrew Prowse
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Haberdasher's Thoughts

The haberdasher has
that season of the year
he rids his racks, his bins
of oddments.
I have no season of the year
like that.
Today, or any day, a derby,
spats or chrome-tipped cane
can shuffle out from stock.
I have no choice.
I have to offer counter space.

poem by Donal Mahoney
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Brennbaum

The sky-like limpid eyes,
The circular infant's face,
The stiffness from spats to collar
Never relaxing into grace;

The heavy memories of Horeb, Sinai and the forty years,
Showed only when the daylight fell
Level across the face
Of Brennbaum 'The Impeccable'.

poem by Ezra Pound
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Western

The Cowboy had a sterling heart,
The Maiden was from Boston,
The Rancher saw his wealth depart—
The Steers were what he lost on.

The Villain was a banker’s limb,
His spats and cane were nifty;
The Maiden needs must marry him—
Her father was not thrifty.

The Sheepmen were as foul as pitch,
The Cowboy was a hero,
The gold mine made the hero rich,
The Villain’s score was zero.

The Sheepmen tried to steal the maid,
The Villain sought the attic,
The Hero fifteen bad men slayed
With his blue automatic.

The Hero kissed the willing lass,
The final scene was snappy;
The Villain went to Boston, Mass.,
And everyone was happy.

poem by Ellis Parker Butler
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The Dinkum Aussie Block

What have we missed? Now he returns no more
We are left with but our blindness to deplore,
But, concentrating on his spats instead,
Missed all the lure of that impressive head.
Caricaturists, gazing at his feet,
Drew little else, and deemed the sketch complete;
Likewise cartoonists, whose gaunt fingers crept
Unconsciously to limn him as they slept.

And we poor Aussies of the rough hewn 'dile,'
Think to salve our vanity the while,
Who said: 'Though we've a gargoyle for a face,
At least 'tis typical of our strong race'
Where are we now? Where is our last excuse
For owning features so unlike a Bruce?
The Bruce, round whom admiring artists flock
Because he owns the dinkum Aussie block.

He kept his block; and keeping it became
A classic type to spread his country's fame.
While we poor groundlings, with our eyes cast down,
Saw only feet to bolster his renown.
Could we not raise our eyes? And now, bereft
Of pride, we've but this consolation left;
Still humble members we - plain as we are
Of that proud race that claims him avatar.

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Cat On Hat

I would not wear my old spats
so long as I had cat on hat,
We'd step in puddles water splat
but high and dry is cat on hat,
Piñata, piñata chant brats with bats
but safe from reach is cat on hat,
In winter warm my hat hair mat
love is a cosy cat on hat,
On windy days the hat sits pat
anchored by the cat on hat,
Geriatric romance is never flat
with a wing fur ball cat on hat,
The older ladies stop to chat
but always to the cat on hat.

Postscript:

With limited information,
well merely photographic interpretation
I offer the following observation.

Originally from Paris
Then Chicago by car
Ever so mysterious
The old chat nior.

poem by by unknown author
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Just a Grouch

Just a grouch.
Shouting and pouting about.
Chasing happiness,
And those who are away.
Bitter and looking for tit for tat spats.
Nothing is right...
Unless approval is made,
For this and/or that.
And don't accidently knock on the door.
You'll get a response...
'What do you want?
And what are you here for? '

Just a grouch.
Seeking to pinch anyone...
To hear an 'Ouch! '
And loving to inflict discomfort!
Whenever the need comes,
To raise an eyebrow...
Or two.
It doesn't take much,
To arouse a grouch to fuss.
About 'something' over nothing,
That has really been done!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Good

You’re a good person
First into the office
Workin to exhaustion nervous
But always cautious and
Burstin with excitement and thirstin
For the worst when
Your boss is
Lurchin for his desserts and
The rumors are like tumors
They’ve got your head hurtin
But you keep from out blurtin
Mouth closed up like a curtain
Ready for paradise
Done workin with the desertion
They’ll all see you’re not worthless
Ears got your brains open
With the notion
Hopin that you’ll be coastin
Cruisin done losin
Towards a new promotion
Boastin
Silently gloatin
Floatin
On thoughts you’re knowin
The words before they’re spoken
And owing all your success
To no one was holdin
Ya hand when you was dopin
Foldin broken chairs
Round the clock for a token
Coats and different hats didn’t match
All the pats on the back
Unless
You were up at the bat
The spits and the spats
Are all fast in the past
Last but not least out comes the beast
With the tease of a sneeze
Belts out and decrees
Everyone’s fired
With 10 minutes to leave

poem by P.R. Prosper
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No More Than Passing Spats

Choosing to hide their delusions,
Has to terrify those in denial.
Those with a wish to protect,
Their hopes from fears...
That current conflicts,
Are no more than passing spats...
Between schoolyard children,
During recess...as to them it appears.

And the authorities looking at this,
From their windows...
Will soon make it clear with warnings,
Of disciplinary actions taken...
If those responsible do not stop soon.
Or parents will be contacted,
With threats to dispell those with bad behavior...
From their classes.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Shaemus

We will go no more to Shaemus, at the Nip,
for sly innuendo and an Oporto Flip,
the rough but tender voice, the wide-mouthed grin,
the steady-unsteady hand that poured the gin:

memory, that flew back years to find a name,
found it, and fetched it up, still just the same;
the shaky footsteps, and then the shaky kidding:
you, the big business man, outbid, outbidding,

the mystery man, the man of deep affairs,
highbrow, and playboy, and friend of millionaires:
and you, the lovers, whose love was in your faces—
there you were, back once more—and still the traces!—

Yes, still the traces of that love he loved,
and re-examined, but as if unmoved;
the names fished up from time, or Singapore,
joined and repeated on his bar once more;

as if no let or hindrance were permitted;
as if both time and space could be outwitted;
endurance noted—in a protocol—
and then embalmed, of course, in alcohol.

And now himself, the immortal, lightly gone,
as if stepped out for a quick one—who had none.
And dead, his room inspected by his friends,
to find a will, adjust the odds and ends;

and there, the fifteen suits, the malacca cane,
the hats, and spats: in which he roved again,
far from the furnished room, the sacred bar,
immortal dandy, towards an immortal star.

poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Escape

{b-side of glam slam}
Snare drum pounds on the 2 and 4
All the party people get on the floor
All the party people get on the floor
Bass
Glam slam (glam slam)
Escape!
Glam slam
Free your mind from this rat race
Glam slam
Escape!
15 minutes aint long enough
To be out your mind in a world so tough
If u wanna escape and truly be
All the crack in compton wont set u free
Come on
Glam slam (slammin)
Free your mind from this rat race
Glam slam
Escape!
U got to be yourself, you gotta be aware
Cuz the ganster - man, he dont give a care
Whether u live, or whether u die
Glam slam escape, gotta give it a try
Glam slam
Free your mind from this rat race
Glam slam (slammin)
Escape!
(party baby) (party baby)
(party baby) (party baby)
(party baby) (party baby)
(where did I hear that before? )
(party baby) (party baby)
Glam slam
Escape!
Everybody trippin on the party bass
However higher u get, is a matter of taste
(party baby) (party baby)
Winner takes all in the hardest race
Dont get on the scale if u aint got the weight
Its more hard 2 love than it is 2 hate
Say
Its more hard 2 love than it is 2 hate
Come on
Its more hard 2 love than it is 2 hate
Yeah
Its more hard 2 love than it is 2 hate
One more
Its more hard 2 love than it is 2 hate
Escape!
Glam slam
Glam slam
Free your mind from this rat race
Glam slam
Escape !

song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dreamers

Soldiers are citizens of death's gray land,
Drawing no dividend from time's to-morrows.
In the great hour of destiny they stand,
Each with his feuds, and jealousies, and sorrows.
Soldiers are sworn to action; they must win
Some flaming, fatal climax with their lives.
Soldiers are dreamers; when the guns begin
They think of firelit homes, clean beds, and wives.

I see them in foul dug-outs, gnawed by rats,
And in the ruined trenches, lashed with rain,
Dreaming of things they did with balls and bats,
And mocked by hopeless longing to regain
Bank-holidays, and picture shows, and spats,
And going to the office in the train.

poem by Siegfried Sassoon
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The Dreamers

Soldiers are citizens of death's gray land,
Drawing no dividend from time's to-morrows.
In the great hour of destiny they stand,
Each with his feuds, and jealousies, and sorrows.
Soldiers are sworn to action; they must win
Some flaming, fatal climax with their lives.
Soldiers are dreamers; when the guns begin
They think of firelit homes, clean beds, and wives.

I see them in foul dug-outs, gnawed by rats,
And in the ruined trenches, lashed with rain,
Dreaming of things they did with balls and bats,
And mocked by hopeless longing to regain
Bank-holidays, and picture shows, and spats,
And going to the office in the train.

poem by Siegfried Sassoon
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Finery

IN an elegant frock, trimm'd with beautiful lace,
And hair nicely curl'd, hanging over her face,
Young Fanny went out to the house of a friend,
With a large little party the evening to spend.

'Ah! how they will all be delighted, I guess,
And stare with surprise at my handsome new dress!'
Thus said the vain girl, and her little heart beat,
Impatient the happy young party to meet.

But, alas! they were all too intent on their play
To observe the fine clothes of this lady so gay,
And thus all her trouble quite lost its design;–
For they saw she was proud, but forgot she was fine.

'Twas Lucy, though only in simple white clad,
(Nor trimmings, nor laces, nor jewels, she had,)
Whose cheerful good-nature delighted them more
Than Fanny and all the fine garments she wore.

'Tis better to have a sweet smile on one's face,
Than to wear a fine frock with an elegant lace,
For the good-natured girl is loved best in the main,
If her dress is but decent, though ever so plain.

poem by Ann Taylor
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Fighting From Within

There is no intention,
To implement a whim!
One to stop countries...
Fighting from within!
What has begun...
Should not have 'began'!
When one threw first rock...
As the other hauled ass and ran!

NOW the one 'ran',
Comes back assisted with lots of rocks.
And the neighbors who started this conflict...
Are shocked these 'spats' wont stop!

But not enough to keep their eyes...
On the scrumptious oil down the block!

There is no intention...
To implement a whim!
Since not one of them have sat to chat...
But scap like children
With threats to destroy...
To the bitter end!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Finery

In an elegant frock, trimm'd with beautiful lace,
And hair nicely curl'd, hanging over her face,
Young Fanny went out to the house of a friend,
With a large little party the evening to spend.

"Ah! how they will all be delighted, I guess,
And stare with surprise at my handsome new dress!"
Thus said the vain girl, and her little heart beat,
Impatient the happy young party to meet.

But, alas! they were all too intent on their play
To observe the fine clothes of this lady so gay,
And thus all her trouble quite lost its design;­
For they saw she was proud, but forgot she was fine.

'Twas Lucy, though only in simple white clad,
(Nor trimmings, nor laces, nor jewels, she had,)
Whose cheerful good-nature delighted them more
Than Fanny and all the fine garments she wore.

'Tis better to have a sweet smile on one's face,
Than to wear a fine frock with an elegant lace,
For the good-natured girl is loved best in the main,
If her dress is but decent, though ever so plain.

poem by Jane Taylor
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Party In The Kremlin

Party in the kremlin
People seein red
Lenin got the elbow
Its a different mob instead
Party in the kremlin
Its the only place to be
You better wear your rolex
Like a true new revolutionary
Party in the kremlin
No more kgb
So what is it they do now?
Can anybody see?
Party in the kremlin
Its the hottest spot in town
Discos and casinos
Never let you down
Trippin in siberia
Rock and roll hysteria
Vladivostok to moscow
And all points in between
Its a new place
Got a new face
And a brand new dream
Party in the kremlin
Suits from tokyo
Guccis are a shinin
Smokin marlboro
Party in the kremlin
Drivin foreign cars
You better find an angle
If you want to play a part
Dancing bears and presidents
Acting under influence
We got bank loans
And cell phones
And levis to wear
They got us linin up
For mickey ds in pushkin square
Vsea govorjat dal
Party in the kremlin
Party in the kremlin
Party in the kremlin
Party in the kremlin

song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Party

Dont delay
Today
Youve got to join the party
Theres no choice
Your voice
Will join the sound sound sound sound
Light the flame
Our aim
Lets get the whole thing started
Tell your friends
Attend
Look what weve found
And if youre scared
Or unaware
Theres no-one here
Wholl put you down
Dont be afraid
You make the grade
Dont hesitate
Come into town
Come on
Everyone is going to
Party, party
Everyone is going to
Party - yeah
Thats the place
Our base
Will make the whole world welcome
No-one cares
What you wear
Just come on down
Youll be there
And you will share
With people
All around
And youll be strong
cause you belong
To everyone
Youve found
I said come on
I said
Everyone is going to
Party, party
Everyone is going to
Party - yeah
Everyone is going to
Party, party
Everyone is going to
Party - yeah
And I say yeah
Come on
Everyone is going to
Party, party
Everyone is going to
Party - yeah
Come on
Everyone is going to
Party, party
Come on
Everyone is going to
Party - yeah

song performed by by Human League
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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