Belinda Ate a Booger
Belinda ate a booger,
On our field trip to Kentucky,
I can't believe she did that,
It's just so very yucky!
I think it's really nasty,
I'd die if they all knew,
One time in the first grade...
I ate a booger too!
poem by ToddMichael St. Pierre
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The first book I ever wrote was in fourth grade and it was called 'Billy's Booger.' It was an autobiographical piece about a kid who was really bad at math.
quote by William Joyce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Kentucky Is My Land
Kentucky is my land
Kentucky is my hope
Kentucky is my heart
Kentucky is my soul.
Kentucky is my mountains
Kentucky is my Earth
Kentucky is my poems
Kentucky is my birth.
As I walk along the river
I watch in wonder as she flows
Up against my Kentucky land
As my Kentucky wind, gently blows.
So I sit and write of her beauty
I sit and write as I hold her hand
As Kentucky is my happiness
Kentucky, is this man.
Kentucky is my wonders
Kentucky is my dreams
Kentucky is my bluegrass
Kentucky is my trees.
Kentucky is the horses
Kentucky is the lakes
Kentucky is the people
Kentucky, I will never forsake.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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It's not how you pick your nose, it's where you put that booger that counts.
Belinda
Belinda the rain is falling
Belinda your love is calling
Belinda hed never leave you
Belinda he wont deceive you
Belinda your mind is dreaming
Belinda its so misleading
Belinda hed never leave you
Belinda he wont deceive you
How the rain still falls
Belinda your eyes have spoken
Belinda your heart is broken
Belinda hed never leave you
Belinda he wont deceive you
Dry your tears...
Close your eyes...
song performed by by Eurythmics
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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But inside, I'm going, 'Oh my God, is my zipper up? Do I have a booger in my nose?' That's my inner monologue.
quote by Leah Remini
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I've always liked getting away with just a little bit of what you're not supposed to. Like my first book, Billy's Booger, got me in trouble with the principal's office.
quote by William Joyce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Booger
you who loves so blindly
the one who does not love you
in return
has become this booger
manipulated by his fingers
and then thrown
after so much abuse
into the infinite space
of oblivion
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I hope some historian will confirm that I was the first cartoonist to use the word "booger" in a newspaper comic strip.
Bill Watterson in The Calvin and Hobbes
Submitted by Simona Enache
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Belinda
Dennis linde
Oh sweet, sweet belinda
They say that you are looking for a home
Fresh out of a love affair
Fresh out of hope
Fresh out of dreams
I know youre as strong as any human can be
But you need love, why dont you take it from me?
I know I aint much, but you can have me for free
Belinda
Oh sweet, sweet belinda
You dont owe me no gratitude or love
Were just two souls stuck here
Two lonely rivers filled with light
Two lights shining on the darkness ahead
Two feet touching in a cold winters bed
I promised you safety, but I loved you instead
Belinda
Oh-oh belinda Id die of loneliness
If you ever left, belinda
Oh-oh belinda Id die of loneliness
If you ever left, belinda
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Way Down Yonder
The Thingamabobs and the Diddleysquats,
Ate platypus-puke and hot booger-tots.
The Tiddleywinks and the Snickerdoodles,
Had roasted head lice with stink-bug noodles.
They played all day on the purple seesaw...
Then headed on down to the Mardi Gras!
poem by ToddMichael St. Pierre
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Booger McNulty and Me
In 1948 Booger McNulty's coal yard stirred
constant gossip among the citizens who lived
in little bungalows on narrow blocks
in my far corner of Chicago.
That was more than 60 years ago,
a time when families took Sunday walks
and went back home in time to hear
Jack Benny on the radio.
A Sunday walk didn't cost a cent,
a price my parents could afford.
When my parents took a Sunday walk,
my sister and I always had to go along,
and every time we'd pass Booger's place,
I'd hear my mother ask my father
what could possibly be on the other side
of Booger's 10-foot fence.
Hoping to avoid a conversation,
my father always said he didn't know
but he believed it couldn't just be coal.
Back then, every kid in the neighborhood
wanted to climb that fence and look around.
But Booger didn't feature visitors.
According to the boy whose keister caught
a chunk of coal from Booger's slingshot,
there was nothing on the other side
except for pigeons and a lot of coal.
In the bungalows surrounding Booger's place,
immigrants from everywhere slept off beer and garlic
when they weren't working, which was pretty often,
according to my mother. My father always worked,
digging graves with the other men,
most of them, like him, from Ireland.
He dug graves because some Bulgarian
broke his nose, after which my mother ruled
no more boxing. He'd been undefeated until then.
I was ten in 1948 and I'd climb Booger's fence
when I was certain he was gone for the night.
Inside the yard I'd climb the piles of coal
until I got tired and then I'd go home
and take a bath before my father saw me.
My mother never let my father see me
cloaked in the soot of Booger's coal
and she always made me promise
never to go back to Booger's again.
But on Easter Sunday in 1948,
I went over Booger's fence a final time.
My mother had taken pains that morning
to get me dressed for the Children's Mass
and sent me off with a caution to be good.
I always went to Mass, every Sunday,
and I would pray and sing the hymns
and usually I was good but this time
the weather was so nice I decided
to go to Booger's instead.
He wouldn't be there on Easter.
It would be just me and the pigeons.
But I was gone for hours that day,
and since no one knew where I was,
a furor in the family flared up,
as I'll explain later.
At school on Monday, Timmy Duffy,
unlike me a favorite of the nuns who taught us,
told me every other boy in class had made it
to the Children's Mass on Easter.
'And where were you? ' he asked.
I told him I'd been sick and thought
with all the polio going around,
I didn't want to cripple anyone on Easter.
Timmy accepted my excuse because
we were all praying for Mickey Kane,
who'd spent a year in an Iron Lung.
'And so, ' said Timmy, 'even though
you weren't there to help, we sang
as loud as we could on Easter, '
something our class always did to keep
the nuns in the aisle from paying us a visit.
I may have sung no hymns that Easter
but I probably looked pretty spiffy
scrambling over Booger's fence
in my new blue suit, white shirt and tie.
I had a wonderful time in the sun
with pigeons careening in the air.
I was free to climb my favorite pile of coal,
toboggan down on my duff,
and then climb a different pile
and toboggan down again,
far more fun than any sled in winter.
Hours later when I got hungry,
back over the fence I went
and headed home for dinner.
Every Easter Sunday, we'd have
ham and yams, Brussels sprouts
and rutabaga, favorites of my father
from his youth in Ireland.
But when I got home that day,
we didn't eat right away
after my father saw me.
As I recall, his reaction was
more Neanderthal than usual.
'Molly, ' he roared to my mother,
with his hand on the back of my neck,
'the little bastid says he went to Booger's!
He never went to Mass! '
And then, despite my mother's protests,
he grabbed from behind the attic door
a belt that had been hanging there for years,
waiting for a felony like mine to happen.
I knew right away what I had to do
and so I dropped my pants and bent
over at the waist as far as possible.
Without a word, he stropped my arse.
I didn't cry, gosh no, since tears
would have brought additional licks.
We were Irish, don'tcha know,
so we didn't cry and we didn't watch
English movies on TV, either.
The accents of the actors would remind
my father of the Black and Tans,
the English soldiers who imprisoned him
on Spike Island, off the coast of Ireland
when he was just 16.
They grabbed him barefoot in a stream
sneaking guns to the IRA.
In 1920, Irish boys ran guns for the IRA
barefoot through the bogs and streams,
provided they were big enough.
Decades later in Chicago, a stranger,
dressed like a Mormon on an urban mission,
rang our bell and told my father
he was from the IRA and had a medal for him
in honor of his service 40 years earlier.
He said 'It took a while for us to find you.'
My father hung the medal in his closet
next to the tan fedora he wore to Irish wakes.
He always went to wakes, hoping to meet
someone 'from home.'
So there I was that Easter Sunday,
standing in our tiny parlor with my pants
napping at my ankles, the result
of a wonderful morning at Booger's
and a terrible afternoon at home.
Now,60 years later,
when that Easter Sunday comes to mind,
no matter where I am, I whisper,
just in case he still can hear me,
'Pops, I haven't missed a Mass on Sunday
since I got that Easter stropping.
I guess I learned my lesson.'
And then I tell him, as politely as I can,
that if he can get a pass from wherever
the Lord has stored him, he can verify
my Mass attendance with my wife and kids,
the last of whom, a son, moved out on us
Christmas Eve,2010, even though
the boy promised his mother and me
a ride to Midnight Mass in his new Hummer.
Two feet of snow we got that evening.
My father would have loved that snow.
Back in '67, when we got 30 inches of it,
some of it in drifts as high as Booger's coal,
he was just delighted by the winter scene,
so much so that he had the two of us
shovel frantically for hours,
albeit in our usual Trappist silence.
When we got back to the house,
he told my mother,
with more than a dollop of flair,
the hairs in his nose were frozen.
tThank God my mother had his tea ready,
steaming hot, as it should be, in its cozy
next to his favorite chair.
And she gave me lots of cocoa,
swirling hot with marshmallows
floating on the top.
Now every New Year's Eve at midnight
(and this has been going on for years)
I see those same marshmallows
when it's time for me to hoist a glass
and make my toast to Holy Week 1948,
the week that I absorbed without a tear
Booger's slingshot and my father's belt.
'Praise the Lord, ' I shout,
'and pass the ammunition.'
As the years go by,
fewer guests know what I mean.
But most of them
never had a chance to hear
Jack Benny on the radio.
The young ones always ask
where I got my old fedora.
A couple of them have even said
they'd have it blocked and cleaned.
But most of them, I'm certain,
even though they went to college,
never saw a relic.
They think the old fedora's
just a hat.
poem by Donal Mahoney
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Not Committing to That Kind of Comfort
You want me to sit,
Like a dried booger to pick.
As if I had no other activity,
But to please.
Like one of your disgusting habits.
I am not committing to that kind of comfort.
Not at this stage of our relationship.
And if you can do 'that' anywhere,
As if my wishes did not exist.
I can imagine what sharing space would be with you...
A pig pen,
You would enjoy living in.
And my love is not that unconditional.
Not if I can envision slinging mud...
Before I said, 'I do'!
To that I say, 'I can't!
I don't. I wont!
Thank you for the warning!
Fresh air is what I choose.
Absolutely.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My Old Kentucky Home, Good Night!
1 The sun shines bright in the old Kentucky home,
2 'Tis summer, the darkies are gay,
3 The corn top's ripe and the meadow's in the bloom
4 While the birds make music all the day.
5 The young folks roll on the little cabin floor,
6 All merry, all happy and bright:
7 By'n by Hard Times comes a knocking at the door,
8 Then my old Kentucky Home, good night!
9 [Chorus] Weep no more, my lady, oh! weep no more to-day!
10 We will sing one song
11 For the old Kentucky Home,
12 For the old Kentucky Home, far away.
13 [Solo] They hunt no more for the possum and the coon
14 On the meadow, the hill and the shore,
15 They sing no more by the glimmer of the moon,
16 On the bench by the old cabin door.
17 The day goes by like a shadow o'er the heart,
18 With sorrow where all was delight:
19 The time has come when the darkies have to part,
20 Then my old Kentucky Home, good-night!
21 [Chorus] Weep no more, my lady, oh! weep no more to-day!
22 We will sing one song
23 For the old Kentucky Home,
24 For the old Kentucky Home, far away.
25 [Solo] The head must bow and the back will have to bend,
26 Wherever the darkey may go:
27 A few more days, and the trouble all will end
28 In the field where the sugar-canes grow.
29 A few more days for to tote the weary load,
30 No matter 'twill never be light,
31 A few more days till we totter on the road,
32 Then my old Kentucky Home, good-night!
33 [Chorus] Weep no more, my lady, oh! weep no more to-day!
34 We will sing one song
35 For the old Kentucky Home,
36 For the old Kentucky Home, far away.
poem by Stephen C. Foster
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Nasty Girl
Thats right, pleased to meet u
I still [dont wanna/wont] tell u my name
Dont u believe in mystery?
Dont u wanna play my game?
Im lookin for a man to love me
Like I never been loved before
Im lookin for a man thatll do it anywhere
Even on [the/a] limousinse floor
Cuz
Tonight, Im living in a fantasy.
My own little nasty world
Tonight, dont u wanna come with me?
Do u think Im a nasty girl?
Tonight, living in a fantasy
My own little nasty world
Tonight, dont u wanna come with me?
Do u think Im a nasty girl?
I guess Im just used to sailors
I think they got water on the brain
I think they got more water upstairs
Than they got sugar on [the/a] candy cane
Thats right, its been a long time
Since I had a man [who/that] did it real good
If u aint scared, take it out
Ill do it like a real live nasty girl should
Tonight, Im living in a fantasy
My own little nasty world
Tonight, dont u wanna come with me?
Do u think Im a nasty girl?
Tonight, Im living in a fantasy
My own little nasty world
Tonight, dont u wanna come with me?
Do u think Im a nasty girl?
Tonight, Im living in a fantasy
My own little nasty world
Tonight, dont u wanna come with me?
Do u think Im a nasty girl?
Tonight, Im living in a fantasy
My own little nasty world
Tonight, dont u wanna come with me?
Do u think Im a nasty girl?
Please, please
Please, please
Nasty girl (nasty girl)
Do u think Im a nasty girl?
Nasty girl (nasty girl)
Do u think Im a nasty girl?
Nasty girl (nasty girl)
Do u think Im a nasty girl?
Nasty girl (nasty girl)
Do u think Im a nasty girl?
(do u think Im a nasty girl)
(nasty girl)
Nasty girl (nasty girl)
Do u think Im a nasty girl?
[..]
I dont like this groove
Try and give me something I can croon to
Catch my drift?
Thatll work
Thats right, I cant control it
I need seven inches or more
Tonight I can no longer hold it
Get it up
Get it up
I cant wait anymore
Uh, its time to jam
Dance nasty girls, dance
(everybody)
Uh, its time to jam
Nasty girls, dance, dance, dance
(everybody)
Uh, its time to jam
Nasty girls, dance, dance, dance
Uh, its time to jam
Nasty girls, dance, dance, dance
Uh, its time to jam
Nasty girls, dance, dance, dance
Uh, its time to jam
Nasty girls, dance, dance, dance
Uh, its time to jam
Come
Nasty girls, dance, dance, dance
Are u going to come?
Uh, its time to jam
Are u going to come?
Are u going to come?
Nasty girls, dance, dance, dance
Uh
Is that it?
Wake me when your done
I guess ull be the only one having fun
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Kentucky Woman
Kentucky woman
She shines in her own kind of light
She looks at you once in a day
And whats wrong is alright
And I love her,
God knows I love her
Kentucky woman
She gets to know you
She gets to hold you
Kentucky woman
She aint the kind to turn
At the drop of her name
Well all the things she does
They turn you on just the same
And I love her,
God knows I love her
Kentucky woman
She gets to know you
She gets to hold you
Kentucky woman
I dont want much
The good lords earth beneath my feet
A gentle touch
Cause that one girl in life is sweet and good
There aint no doubt, Im talking about
Kentucky woman
She gets to know you
She gets to hold you
Kentucky woman
Kentucky woman she shines in her own kind of light
She looks at you once in a day
And whats wrong is alright
And I love her, yes I do, I love her
Kentucky woman
She gets to know you
She gets to hold you
Kentucky woman
Kentucky woman
Kentucky woman
Kentucky woman
song performed by by Deep Purple
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why Do You Bob Your Nose, Girl ?
(kinky friedman)
Why do you bob your nose, girls, it does not look so nice,
If it' s just to keep in fashion, it's not the lord's advice.
Well, you mangle mother nature and brave the lord's command
You care about your nose, girls, and reach the glory land.
Why do you bob your nose, girls, it's not the thing to do,
Run with that nose and some day the lord may say to you:
You naughty little booger, you honky tonkin' hose
But at least i'm glad for one thing: you'sll never bob your nose.
song performed by by Kinky Friedman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Kentuckey Gambler
He wanted more from like
Than four kids and a wife
And a job in the dark kentucky mines
A twenty-acre farm
With a shacky house and barn
That's all he had
And all he left behind
At gambling he was lucky
So he left kentucky
Left behind his woman and his kids
Into the gay casino
In nevada's town of reno
Kentucky gambler planned to get rich quick
Kentucky gambler, who's gonna love your woman in kentucky
Who's gonna be the one to give her what she needs
Kentucky gambler, who's gonna raise your children in kentucky
Who's gonna keep them fed and keep shoes on their feet
At the gamblers' paradise
Lady luck was on his side
Kentucky gambler played his cards just right
He won at everything he played
Kentucky gambler had it made
And he should have quit and gone on home that night
But when you love the greenback dollar
Sorrow's always bound to follow
Reno dreams fade into neon amber
And lady luck, she'll leave you on
She'll saty awhile, and then she's gone
You'd better go on home kentucky gambler
But a gambler never seems to stop
Til he loses all he's got
And so, kentucky gambler, he played on
He played til he lost all he won
He was right back where he started from
Then he started wanting to go home
Kentucky gambler, there ain't nobody waiting in kentucky
When you walked out, somebody else walked in
Kentucky gambler, looks like you ain't really very lucky
Seems to me a gambler looses much more than he wins
So you think about it
Kentucky gambler
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Kentucky Gambler
He wanted more from like
Than four kids and a wife
And a job in the dark kentucky mines
A twenty-acre farm
With a shacky house and barn
Thats all he had
And all he left behind
At gambling he was lucky
So he left kentucky
Left behind his woman and his kids
Into the gay casino
In nevadas town of reno
Kentucky gambler planned to get rich quick
Kentucky gambler, whos gonna love your woman in kentucky
Whos gonna be the one to give her what she needs
Kentucky gambler, whos gonna raise your children in kentucky
Whos gonna keep them fed and keep shoes on their feet
At the gamblers paradise
Lady luck was on his side
Kentucky gambler played his cards just right
He won at everything he played
Kentucky gambler had it made
And he should have quit and gone on home that night
But when you love the greenback dollar
Sorrows always bound to follow
Reno dreams fade into neon amber
And lady luck, shell leave you on
Shell saty awhile, and then shes gone
Youd better go on home kentucky gambler
But a gambler never seems to stop
Til he loses all hes got
And so, kentucky gambler, he played on
He played til he lost all he won
He was right back where he started from
Then he started wanting to go home
Kentucky gambler, there aint nobody waiting in kentucky
When you walked out, somebody else walked in
Kentucky gambler, looks like you aint really very lucky
Seems to me a gambler looses much more than he wins
So you think about it
Kentucky gambler
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Kentucky Rose
Words & music: wayne kirkpatrick and michael w. smith
Sun comes up - sunday morn
On the little church where I been since I was born
And there he stood - a hearty smile
You could hear his voice ringing out for a country mile
And he could place your mind at ease
With his tenderness and a heart that aimed to please
A paupers hands - a farmers clothes
Just a preacher man we called kentucky rose
He worked the soul like he worked the land
He spoke in ways that anyone could understand
Simple words of simple faith
And when it came to love, he would go out of his way
A helping hand - a soothing chat
And he practiced what he preached - imagine that
And as far as kindness goes
There was none compared to old kentucky rose
Evening stroll cross shylers bridge
Thats when he saw the boy trapped below that rocky ridge
He knew the danger he would face
But its as if he saved the child only to take his place
For on that ridge of stone and ice
Kentucky met his maker in sacrifice
Why hes gone, God only knows
Maybe for the company of his kentucky rose
So peaceful in his sunday best
He was buried on a hill and laid to rest
When people heard they came in droves
To say their last good-byes to sweet kentucky rose
Now, on that hill one flower grows
They say it is the spirit of kentucky rose
They say it is the spirit of kentucky rose
I believe it is the spirit of kentucky rose...
song performed by by Michael W. Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Kentucky Woman
Written by: neil diamond
Kentucky woman
She shines with her own kind of light
She looks at you once
And a day thats all wrong looks all right
And I love her
God knows I love her
Kentucky woman
If she get to know you
She goin to own you
Kentucky woman
Well, she aint the kind
Make heads turn at the drop of her name
But something inside
That shes got turns you on just the same
And I love her
God knows I love her
Kentucky woman
If she get to know you
She goin to own you
Kentucky woman
I dont want much
The good lords earth beneath the feet
A gentle touch
Of that one girl and life is
Sweet and good
There aint no doubt
Hey, Im talking about
Kentucky woman
Kentucky woman
I dont want much
The good lords earth beneath the feet
A gentle touch
Of that one girl and life is
Sweet and good
There aint no doubt
Hey, Im talking about
Kentucky woman
If she get to know you
She goin to own you
Kentucky woman
Kentucky woman
Kentucky woman
Kentucky woman
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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