Fuzzy-Wuzzy
(Soudan Expeditionary Force)
We've fought with many men acrost the seas,
An' some of 'em was brave an' some was not:
The Paythan an' the Zulu an' Burmese;
But the Fuzzy was the finest o' the lot.
We never got a ha'porth's change of 'im:
'E squatted in the scrub an' 'ocked our 'orses,
'E cut our sentries up at Sua~kim~,
An' 'e played the cat an' banjo with our forces.
So 'ere's ~to~ you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'ome in the Soudan;
You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first-class fightin' man;
We gives you your certificate, an' if you want it signed
We'll come an' 'ave a romp with you whenever you're inclined.
We took our chanst among the Khyber 'ills,
The Boers knocked us silly at a mile,
The Burman give us Irriwaddy chills,
An' a Zulu ~impi~ dished us up in style:
But all we ever got from such as they
Was pop to what the Fuzzy made us swaller;
We 'eld our bloomin' own, the papers say,
But man for man the Fuzzy knocked us 'oller.
Then 'ere's ~to~ you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an' the missis and the kid;
Our orders was to break you, an' of course we went an' did.
We sloshed you with Martinis, an' it wasn't 'ardly fair;
But for all the odds agin' you, Fuzzy-Wuz, you broke the square.
'E 'asn't got no papers of 'is own,
'E 'asn't got no medals nor rewards,
So we must certify the skill 'e's shown
In usin' of 'is long two-'anded swords:
When 'e's 'oppin' in an' out among the bush
With 'is coffin-'eaded shield an' shovel-spear,
An 'appy day with Fuzzy on the rush
Will last an 'ealthy Tommy for a year.
So 'ere's ~to~ you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an' your friends which are no more,
If we 'adn't lost some messmates we would 'elp you to deplore;
But give an' take's the gospel, an' we'll call the bargain fair,
For if you 'ave lost more than us, you crumpled up the square!
'E rushes at the smoke when we let drive,
An', before we know, 'e's 'ackin' at our 'ead;
'E's all 'ot sand an' ginger when alive,
An' 'e's generally shammin' when 'e's dead.
'E's a daisy, 'e's a ducky, 'e's a lamb!
'E's a injia-rubber idiot on the spree,
'E's the on'y thing that doesn't give a damn
For a Regiment o' British Infantree!
So 'ere's ~to~ you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'ome in the Soudan;
You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first-class fightin' man;
An' 'ere's ~to~ you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, with your 'ayrick 'ead of 'air --
You big black boundin' beggar -- for you broke a British square!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Candyman
Chorus
And even though Im right behind you
Shadows haunt and taunt your hand
I cannot be your everything
But Ill be your candyman
You move a sudden grace, a child upon the earth
You wanted love to find you but you found it first
Chorus
We look through antiques on a fuzzy, fuzzy day
But you always know just what you want
Want right away
Chorus
And though you cry at night
Its to be expected
But know youre mine tonight
So when the sun has died you dive into your mind
But your soul is never lost until the deal is signed
Chorus
song performed by by Vertical Horizon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Slow Accepting Doses
If I wanted to fuzzy you with cuddly,
That approach would be for you...
Not out of the ordinary.
That is what you seek to protect your beliefs.
But it is your delusions,
That squeeze life from you.
As if to aid in your addiction to be deceive.
In slow accepting doses.
And me?
I will never deceive you.
Is that the reason why when I am around,
You begin to cringe?
Perceiving me to be a demon.
Look around you.
You are the one fighting them out of my sight.
However...
There is something about their approach,
That feeds your appetite.
Am I right?
And I am just a reminder of your insecurities.
No matter how long you try...
You can not blame your insecurities on me.
I am not a fuzzy cuddler.
And 'that' I will acknowledge.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Johnny Boer
Men fight all shapes and sizes as the racing horses run,
And no man knows his courage till he stands before a gun.
At mixed-up fighting, hand to hand, and clawing men about
They reckon Fuzzy-Wuzzy is the hottest fighter out.
But Fuzzy gives himself away -- his style is out of date,
He charges like a driven grouse that rushes on its fate;
You've nothing in the world to do but pump him full of lead:
But when you're fighting Johhny Boer you have to use your head;
He don't believe in front attacks or charging at the run,
He fights you from a kopje with his little Maxim gun.
For when the Lord He made the earth, it seems uncommon clear,
He gave the job of Africa to some good engineer,
Who started building fortresses on fashions of his own --
Lunettes, redoubts, and counterscarps all made of rock and stone.
The Boer need only bring a gun, for ready to his hand
He finds these heaven-built fortresses all scattered through the land;
And there he sits and winks his eye and wheels his gun about,
And we must charge across the plain to hunt the beggar out.
It ain't a game that grows on us -- there's lots of better fun
Than charging at old Johnny with his little Maxim gun.
On rocks a goat could scarcely climb, steep as the walls of Troy,
He wheels a four-point-seven about as easy as a toy;
With bullocks yoked and drag-ropes manned, he lifts her up the rocks
And shifts her every now and then, as cunning as a fox.
At night you mark her right ahead, you see her clean and clear,
Next day at dawn -- "What, ho! she bumps" -- from somewhere in the rear.
Or else the keenest-eyed patrol will miss him with the glass --
He's lying hidden in the rocks to let the leaders pass;
But when the mainguard comes along he opens up the fun;
There's lots of ammunition for the little Maxim gun.
But after all the job is sure, although the job is slow.
We have to see the business through, the Boer has got to go.
With Nordenfeldt and lyddite shell it's certain, soon or late,
We'll hunt him from his kopjes and across the Orange State;
And then across those open flats you'll see the beggar run,
And we'll be running after him with our little Maxim gun.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Pollen Call Is Rainbow Pot Of Gold To El Dorado
walk within fields walk within woods
walk upon prairie grass or wild tundra
all is listening nature all nature listens
observe quiet hare sure big ears hears
but the bumblebee does not have ears
how then is it a fuzzy bumblebee hears
it is not known whether a bumblebee hears
it is not known how fuzzy bumblebee hears
a bumblebee could hear sound waves passing
sound waves soft passing through freedom air
a bumblebee can feel the vibrations of sounds
vibrations of sounds through wood materials
a bumblebee could hear sound through legs
a bumblebee could hear sound through fuzz
fuzzy body to kept warm to keep out winds
to keep out wind chill so as not to catch chills
a bumblebee watches golden pollen showers
a bumblebee dances among flowers for hours
pollen call is rainbow pot of gold to El Dorado
vessels of golden one flower air in fertilization
flights seed flowers in colours shapes miraculous
heavens ablaze seed colour shape smell lure scent
heaven kiss nectar pollen rewards await joy flight
flights of impossibility sow wild flower seed scent
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Every shot makes someone happy.
quote by Fuzzy Zoeller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sometimes its good to contrast what you like with something else. It makes you appreciate it even more.
Darby Conley in Get Fuzzy (2001)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There is nothing worse than a sharp image of a fuzzy concept.
quote by Ansel Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There is no point in having sharp images when you've fuzzy ideas.
quote by Jean-Luc Godard
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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There is nothing worse then a sharp image of a fuzzy concept.
quote by Ansel Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If you're soft and fuzzy, like our little characters, you become the skinny kid on the beach, and people in this business don't mind kicking sand in your face.
quote by Michael Eisner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Liberty, freedom and democracy are very fuzzy words, but human rights is very specific.
quote by Joichi Ito
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Brutal
I don't sauté what I say,
With puffed up fluff!
When I 've had enough...
I get brutal.
I don't offer apple strudel.
Or beat around the bush.
I'm not into fuzzy wuzzy stuff.
Or get cuddly to patch things up!
I don't sauté what I have to say,
With puffed up fluff for you!
When I've had enough...
And the going gets tough,
I get brutal.
I don't offer apple strudel.
I get brutal.
Or chicken soup with noodle.
I get brutal.
When games are lame.
And the aim is the same.
Putting my name to shame.
And wanting me to take the blame.
For something I know,
From the start I didn't do?
Because you think it's cute...
To use me as a substitute!
I don't bite my lip...
And pretend I'm not pissed!
You try to do me in...
And then you turn around and grin?
Thinking I wont do,
What now you know I can and will...
To you!
Yes...
Your looks could kill,
But I wont be a pig in swill.
I will get brutal.
I don't offer apple strudel.
I get brutal.
Or chicken soup with noodle.
I get brutal.
When games are lame.
And the aim is the same.
Putting my name to shame.
And wanting me to take the blame.
For something I know,
From the start I didn't do?
You think I'm a wimp in a pink tutu?
With a tutti fruiti tattoo on my booty too?
I wont sauté what I say,
With puffed up fluff for you.
When I've had enough...
I get brutal.
I don't offer apple strudel.
I get brutal.
Or chicken soup with noodle.
I get brutal.
I don't sauté what I say,
Or look away...
With my dignity played!
Not me.
Oh no!
You see...
I don't offer fantasy!
I'll give you brutal.
That's all I offer to you,
Is the brutal.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spreading out the particle into a string is a step in the direction of making everything we're familiar with fuzzy. You enter a completely new world where things aren't at all what you're used to.
quote by Edward Witten
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Im So Stupid
cause I used to live
In a fuzzy dream
And I wanted to be
Like all the pretty people
Im so stupid
cause I used to live
In a fuzzy dream
And I used to believe
In a pretty pictures
That were all around me
But now I know for sure
That I was stupid
Chorus:
Please dont try to tempt me
It was just greed
And it wont protect me
Dont want my dreams
Adding up to nothing
I was just looking for
Everybodys looking for something
Im so stupid
cause I used to live
In a tiny bubble
And I wanted to be
Like all the pretty people
That were all around me
But now I know for sure
That I was stupid
Stupider than stupid
Stupider than stupid
Stupider than stupid
(chorus)
Everybodys looking for something
Everybodys stupid stupid
Everybodys looking for something
Everybodys stupid stupid
Everybodys looking for something
Everybodys stupid stupid
Everybodys looking for something
Everybody, everybody
(chorus)
song performed by by Madonna
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One cannot set out to make a work that's spiritual. What is a contemporary iconography for the spiritual? Is it some fuzzy space?
quote by Anish Kapoor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A million thoughts went through my mind. What little mind I have.
quote by Fuzzy Zoeller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There is a fuzzy but real distinction that can and I believe should be made, between patriotism, which is attachment to a way of life, and nationalism, which is the insistence that your way of life deserves to rule over other ways of life.
quote by Todd Gitlin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Silver fuzzy snow
You tenderly wrap the tree
You harbor with care
Tree is anxious for release
To nest later bird you fly
Aslewake
Rusty lampost
an intruder
Get lost
says
the dark, cold night
cat's eyes
reflect
the pale moonlight
faries
dance upon
My window frame
I sit
I stare
blank
fuzzy
German homework
Ja
Nein
Es ist kaput
So Müde
Daydream
Nightdream
Somewhe re between
Asleep
and
Awake
Aslwake
poem by Frances May
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Crush or 2 Be Crushed
Smitten…Do you call me foolish for being a fool
Fuzzy bunnies and butterflies, I guess that's cool
Curious…All day I long for him to notice me or give me a simple wink
Does he even care about how I feel or what I think
Weak…Sick to my soul, sending chills thru my knees
Crying so hard that my tears start to bleed
Crazy...Screaming because I'm stuck on this emotional rollercoaster
Waiting for the pinch as a sign that this nightmare is over
Confused...That I can't fathom his nonchalant head nod
Wondering if his abstruse smile is a mere facade
Forgotten...My feelings are caged like a dove
Choked, even stifled by this thing they call love
When will I be free to finally breathe
Trying hard not to give up on what I believe
poem by LaTasha Diane Thomas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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