Sweet Mary - Sweet Laurie
Mary, born a little pre
had some trouble breathing,
also, nightly she would pee
and she screamed while teething.
In the private school she met
Laurie from Chicago
Laurie wore a silver net
loved old Doc Tshivago.
Laurie was a trifle sweet
had no use for men,
got just formula to eat
though she rated ten.
Missed the milk that Nature makes,
which was one good reason
to demand those frequent breaks
during hunting season.
Meaning, puberty and all
girls are searching daily
Laurie who was rather tall
laughed and smiled so gaily,
when they had the prom that year
Laurie tasted Mary,
and she dumped, (for good I fear)
Polish boy named Harry.
Harry had, (he was quite mad)
followed Mary over,
Harry's uncle told the lad
(was an Aussie drover) ,
get your hands on any bird
never pay no mind,
what she says, and take my word
grab her from behind.
Harry tried and was rebuffed
Laurie was to smitten!
Harry pouted, Harry huffed
from the lovebug bitten.
In the flat on 69
girls were reminiscin'
after some cheap Gallo wine
they were gently kissin'.
Later on, when Laurie woke
Mary said I reckon,
you are better than a bloke
all they want is neckin'.
If we practice, Laury said
try manipulation,
here in our Kingsize bed
we may get lactation.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Poet Laurie Ate
Laurie was my dog
And he loved to bite
He wasn't very clever
And not at all bright.
He didn't like my friend
A mad poet called Fred
One day Laurie bit him
On the back of his head.
Fred wasn't at all pleased
And bit my dog back
So Laurie retaliated
And went on the attack.
They wrestled on the floor
And Fred got bit a lot
So to get my dog off him
I hit the mutt with a flowerpot.
But Laurie was very tough
And the pot bounced off his head
Then poor old Fred stopped moving
In fact he was now Dead.
I didn't know what to do
The poet didn't deserve to die
Looking down at Laurie
I asked this crazy dog Why?
But he just didn't care
And kept chewing at Fred
This loony dog was eating him
The he swallowed dead Fred's head.
Poor Fred was now all gone
But this must have been his fate
To lose his life to a psycho dog
The poet Laurie ate.
poem by Kevin Halls
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Harry Rag
Ah, tom is young and tom is bold
Tom is as bold as the knights of old
But whenever he gets in a bit of a jam
Theres nothing he wont do to get a harry rag
Harry rag, harry rag
Do anything just to get a harry rag
And he curses himself for the life hes led
And rolls himself a harry rag and puts himself to bed
Ah, toms old ma is a dying lass
Soon they all reckon shell be pushing up the grass
And her bones might ache and her skin might sag
But still shes got the strength to have a harry rag
Harry rag, harry rag
Do anything just to get a harry rag
And she curses herself for the life shes led
And rolls herself a harry rag and puts herself to bed
Ah, bless you tax man, bless you all
You may take some but you never take it all
But if I give it all, I wont feel sad
As long as I got enough to buy a harry rag
Harry rag, harry rag
Do anything just to get a harry rag
And I curse myself for the life Ive led
And roll myself a harry rag and put myself to bed
Ah, the smart young ladies of the land
Cant relax without a harry in their hand
And they light one and they boast and brag
So content because they got a harry rag
Harry rag, harry rag
Do anything just to get a harry rag
And theyll light one and theyll boast and brag
So content because they got a harry rag
Harry rag, harry rag
Ill do anything just to get a harry rag
And I curse myself for the life Ive led
And roll myself a harry rag and put myself to bed
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Harry Rag
Ah, tom is young and tom is bold
Tom is as bold as the knights of old
But whenever he gets in a bit of a jam
Theres nothing he wont do to get a harry rag
Harry rag, harry rag
Do anything just to get a harry rag
And he curses himself for the life hes led
And rolls himself a harry rag and puts himself to bed
Ah, toms old ma is a dying lass
Soon they all reckon shell be pushing up the grass
And her bones might ache and her skin might sag
But still shes got the strength to have a harry rag
Harry rag, harry rag
Do anything just to get a harry rag
And she curses herself for the life shes led
And rolls herself a harry rag and puts herself to bed
Ah, bless you tax man, bless you all
You may take some but you never take it all
But if I give it all, I wont feel sad
As long as I got enough to buy a harry rag
Harry rag, harry rag
Do anything just to get a harry rag
And I curse myself for the life Ive led
And roll myself a harry rag and put myself to bed
Ah, the smart young ladies of the land
Cant relax without a harry in their hand
And they light one and they boast and brag
So content because they got a harry rag
Harry rag, harry rag
Do anything just to get a harry rag
And theyll light one and theyll boast and brag
So content because they got a harry rag
Harry rag, harry rag
Ill do anything just to get a harry rag
And I curse myself for the life Ive led
And roll myself a harry rag and put myself to bed
song performed by by Morrissey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Harry the Wu
What can I do, Harry the Wu,
A policeman will come
And ask questions of you,
He'll pull out his book
And his pencil, too,
And look very sternly
At Harry the Wu.
Oh, Harry the Wu, what did you do,
While I was in bed
Going down with the flu,
I didn't get up until
Half past two,
And you're so impatient,
Harry the Wu.
I knew there was something that
I had to do,
I had to get up and feed
Harry the Wu,
That bowl in the fridge of
The left-over stew
Was meant for your dinner,
Harry the Wu.
Oh what can I do, Harry the Wu,
They'll probably lock you
Away in the zoo,
And then you will miss me
And I'll miss you too,
Life is a tragedy,
Harry the Wu.
I thought that you knew,
Harry the Wu,
That there are some things
You are not meant to do,
Now all that is left is
The Postman's shoe,
His hat and his bag
You have eaten them too.
What can I do, Harry the Wu,
You've ripped off the policeman's
Trousers, too,
You'd better go hide in
The chimney flu,
Stop wagging your tail at me
Harry the Wu.
13 April 2009
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Harry
you must be smellin' cherries and strawberries and peaches
and plums
roses and dandelions
special lovin' on the nite I spent with you
it was the best that I've had lately
but it didn't mean anything
and I will be glad when you stop callin' me
harry
don't wanna be your girlfriend
but boy when you want the lovin'
come and see me harry
swore my ever lasting true love to you
said that I need ya I want ya didn't I baby
but I was just kiddin' 'round
and I will be glad when you stop callin' my house
harry
don't wanna be your girlfriend
but boy when you want the lovin'
come and see me harry
it's a shame harry
cause you such a beautiful thing harry
you tell em that you love and I bet you do
but love's not my thing right now harry
all I wanna do is swing
and when you're ready
I'm here for you
please harry
stop callin' me
harry
don't wanna be your girlfriend
but boy when you want the lovin'
feel free to come and see me harry
song performed by by Macy Gray from The ID
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Uncle Harry
Oh, never let on to your own true love
That ever you drank a drop;
That ever you played in a two-up school
Or slept in a sly-grog shop;
That ever a bad girl nursed you round –
That ever you sank so low.
But she pulled you through, and it's only you
And your old mate Harry know.
"Billy the Link" they called you then,
And it makes me sad to think
Of the strenuous days when it took three cops
And a pimp to couple the Link.
"Mister Linkhurst" they call you now,
And your kitchen garden grows;
And no one knows in your family,
But your Uncle Harry knows.
Oh, never let on to your fair young bride
How a "straight" girl stabbed your heart
With a devilish wire to the Western side
Where we were a world apart.
With pick and shovel you fought it out
Where the red sirocco blows;
And no one knew in the gang save you –
But your old mate Harry knows.
Oh, never let on to your own good wife,
For a tender heart has she,
Of the girl that loved and the girl that lies
In the graveyard there by the sea!
'Twas not for his "manners" she loved the cad,
'Twas not for his verse or prose,
But the pity she felt for the country lad –
And your Uncle Harry knows.
The bad girl went where the bad girls go
And I see her dark eyes yet;
The good girl left me her broken heart,
But I trow that their souls have met.
The cry of the heart we send not forth
On every wind that blows;
You are hiding a sorrow from someone now –
But your Uncle Harry knows.
poem by Henry Lawson
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One thing is certain. The old Piper Laurie is no more.
quote by Piper Laurie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Harry Truman
America needs you
Harry truman
Harry could you please come home
Things are looking bad
I know you would be mad
To see your favorite men
Prevail upon the land you love
Americas wondering
How we got here
Harry all we get is lies
Were gettin safer cars
Rocket ships to mars
From men whod sell us out
To get themselves a piece of power
Wed love to hear you speak your mind
In plain and simple ways
Call a spade a spade
Like you did back in the days
You would play piano
Each morning walk a mile
Speak of what was going down
With honesty and style
Americas calling
Harry truman
Harry you know what to do
The world is turnin round and losin lots of ground
Oh harry is there something we can do to save the land we love
Oh woah woah woah
Americas calling
Harry truman
Harry you know what to do
The world is turnin round
And losin lots of ground
Harry is there something we can do to save the land we love
Oh
Harry is there something we can do to save the land we love
Harry
Harry is there something we can do to save the land we love
song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Laurie got offended that I used the word 'puke.' But to me, that's what her dinner tasted like.
Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Harrys Circumcision - Reverie Gone Astray
Looking in the mirror
Harry didnt like what he saw
The cheeks of his mother, the eyes of his father
As each day crashed around him
The future stood revealed
He was turning into his parents
The final disappointment
Stepping out of the shower
Harry stared at himself
His hairline receding, the slight overbite
He picked up the razor to begin his shaving and thought -
- oh, I wish I was different
I wish I was stronger
I wish I was thinner
I wish I didnt have this nose
These ears that stick out remind me of my father
And I dont want to be reminded at all
The final disappointment
Harry looked in the mirror thinking of vincent van gogh
And with a quick swipe lopped off his nose
And happy with that he made a slice where his chin was
Hed always wanted a dimple
The end of all illusion
Then peering down straight between his legs
Harry thought of the range of possibilities
A new face, a new life, no memories of the past
And slit his throat from ear to ear
Harry woke up with a cough
The stitches made him wince
A doctor smiled at him from
Somewhere across the room
Son, we saved your life
But youll never look the same
And when he heard that
Harry had to laugh
And when he heard that
Harry had to laugh
Although it hurt harry had to laugh
The final disappointment
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On the Raising of the Mary Rose
'Long since I sailed me
I and ‘Great Harry’
Pride of the ragged fleet
When we were merrie,
Heel at the wind, my tars,
Gunports at ready.'
'There sat the Frenchman
Here, our great ships,
Hard on the helm we are
As the port dips,
Long cries of ‘Mary Rose’
Die on their lips.'
'Deep-dredged these centuries
Now wedged on high
Stark, as my timbers
Wide-arc the sky;
Where now ‘Great Harry’,
Where does he lie? '
'Torn from my bitter-rest
Borne to your day,
Wide-eyed and wild is my
Sad disarray;
Tell my ‘Great Harry’ now –
Your world is grey.'
14 October 1982
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Box Car Harry
The railroad dick looked straight at him, eyes unwavering, beady-eyed, menacing, and Harry counted his change to see if there was enough for a bribe; searched his thoughts for an escape route, but he was not as young as he used to be and the dick was young, legs like a deer.
He tussled Barney’s hair and said:
“Go there in that thar car and wait for me, got to dump the dick. Wait for my whistle.”
Barney looked up him hesitantly and Harry stammered hoarsely
“Go! ”
Barney scrambled on all fours the way Harry had taught him and quickly disappeared under cover of the dark Chicago night.
Always, the dick against the Bos, the rich against the poor was Harry’s thought, been that way since her was born, the wanders, the lose, the lose people on the road trying to find an odd job and a meal, against the railroad fat cats trying to exterminate the railroad people, who what was just trying to get by.
Harry held his breath and told himself to concentrate and finally turned back to the dick and showed himself, full on so as the dick could get a good look at him. The dick wide-eyed and incredulous stared hard at Harry surprised by the brazenness of the tramp and stood stock still for a moment, prey in the eyes of the predator.
Harry swayed a little left and then a little right like a running back taunting the linebacker, which way boy, am I going to bolt, which way is the question. Harry feinted a dash to the right and the dick crouched right ready for the chase, Harry smiled and then feinted to the left, testing the dick’s reflexes. The dick danced to the left enjoying the thrilling moment before the chase.
Harry guessed Barney had had time to secure himself in the car and then dashed straight toward the dick, who was thoroughly surprised and steeled himself for what he thought would be a crash between the two men. But Harry at the last minute slanted right allowing the dick to remain close behind but not enough to lay hand on him.
He headed for track 13 for the Great Northern line car.
The dick was breathing behind him; Harry could hear his labored breaths, close enough but not close enough to grab, what was what Harry wanted.
He hit the Northern line yard and saw number 13 looming. The dick was laughing behind him yelping with the sheer joy of it all, feeling he had Harry cornered because the Northern lot was a closed in one, a big wall in the back, a closed station and of course cars, most closed.
But Harry was aiming toward 13 and left up into the car and waited for the dick to catch up and see him. Harry looked down at the man’s heaving chest smiling his best Harry smile.
To be Continued
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Harry's Circumcision
Looking in the mirror Harry didn't like what he saw
The cheeks of his mother the eyes of his father
As each day crashed around him the future stood revealed
He was turning into his parents
The final disappointment
Stepping out of the shower Harry stared at himself
His hairline receding the slight overbite
He picked up the razor to begin his shaving
and thought oh I wish I was different
I wish I was stronger I wish I was thinner
I wish I didn't have this nose
These ears that stick out remind me of my father
and I don't want to be reminded at all
The final disappointment
Harry looked into the mirror thinking of Vincent Van Gogh
and with a quick swipe lopped off his nose
And happy with that he made a slice where his chin was
He's always wanted a dimple
The end of all illusion
Then peering down straight between his legs
Harry thought of the range of possibilities
A new face a new life no memories of the past
and slit his throat from ear to ear
Harry woke up with a cough the stitches made his wince
A doctor smiled at him from somewhere across the room
Son we saved your life but you'll never look the same
And when he heard that, Harry had to laugh
Although it hurt Harry had to laugh
The final disappointment
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Harry’s Come Marching Home Again (Written In March 2008)
Harry’s come marching home again, Hooray! Hooray!
From Afghanistan, not to roam again, he is back, to stay.
Whilst the flags are out and the bugles blare
I am sure he wishes he still were there.
And we all feel proud Prince Harry has come back home.
Harry’s come flying home again, Hooray! Hooray!
Since media hacks have hunted him down as prey, for pay.
They’ve snitched and let the cat out of the bag
And he’s had to fly home and brave jet lag
And I’m sure he’s sick he’s had to come flying home.
Harry’s come sailing home again, Hooray! Hooray!
It would just have been a security risk to stay, they say.
Now the papers groan and wonder what
They can do with him, now he can’t get shot
But they’ve got their scoop now Harry’s come sailing home.
Harry’s come driving home again, Hooray! Hooray!
Now he can go back on the town again, to play and stray
And the paparazzi will take their snaps
While he’s on the booze with a few of the chaps
And they’ll take their cut now Harry’s come driving home.
Harry’s come marching home again, Hooray! Hooray!
From Afghanistan, not to roam again. Is he back to stay
Till the next time he is sent off to fight,
If they hush it up? Will it all be right?
Do we all feel proud Prince Harry has come back home?
poem by C. Richard Miles
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It's good to take a longer view and think, What would I really like to do if I had no limitations whatsoever?
quote by Laurie Anderson
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Johnny Mercer was my father's best friend and became mine as well. And Harold Arlen, whom I would call Uncle Harry, and Harry Warren: those were ones who I really became close to.
quote by Margaret Whiting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Believe me, when an actress is told that her very name is synonymous with bad acting, she's had it.
quote by Piper Laurie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Mess Of A Man
Meet a man,
A man named Harry,
He's in need of a shave,
And it's quite scary,
He's got hair on his chest,
Hair on his back,
Hair on his ass,
And hair in his crack,
He leaves hair on the soap,
Hair on the floor,
Hair every place,
Including the store,
Harry, dear Harry,
Do something, please,
Your hair retains odor,
And you reek of cheese!
Look at your cat,
What will you do?
Your cat's hairballs,
They're the hairs from you!
No hope, it seems,
For your hairiness,
It'll just regrow,
So live in your mess.
poem by Maddy Jones
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On The Road To Gundagai
Oh, we started down from Roto when the sheds had all cut out.
We'd whips and whips of Rhino as we meant to push about,
So we humped our blues serenely and made for Sydney town,
With a three-spot cheque between us, as wanted knocking down.
But we camped at Lazy Harry's, on the road to Gundagai
The road to Gundagai! Not five miles from Gundagai!
Yes, we camped at Lazy Harry's, on the road to Gundagai.
Well, we struck the Murrumbidgee near the Yanko in a week,
And passed through old Narrandera and crossed the Burnet Creek.
And we never stopped at Wagga, for we'd Sydney in our eye.
But we camped at Lazy Harry's, on the road to Gundagai.
Oh, I've seen a lot of girls, my boys, and drunk a lot of beer,
And I've met with some of both, chaps, as has left me mighty queer;
But for beer to knock you sideways, and for girls to make you sigh,
You must camp at Lazy Harry's, on the road to Gundagai.
Well, we chucked our blooming swags off, and we walked into the bar,
And we called for rum-an'-raspb'ry and a shilling each cigar.
But the girl that served the pizen, she winked at Bill and I
And we camped at Lazy Harry's, not five miles from Gundagai.
In a week the spree was over and the cheque was all knocked down,
So we shouldered our "Matildas," and we turned our backs on town,
And the girls they stood a nobbler as we sadly said "Good bye,"
And we tramped from Lazy Harry's, not five miles from Gundagai;
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On the road to Gundagai
Oh, we started down from Roto when the sheds had all cut out.
We'd whips and whips of Rhino as we meant to push about,
So we humped our blues serenely and made for Sydney town,
With a three-spot cheque between us, as wanted knocking down.
Chorus
But we camped at Lazy Harry's, on the road to Gundagai.
The road to Gundagai! Not five miles from Gundagai!
Yes, we camped at Lazy Harry's, on the road to Gundagai.
Well, we struck the Murrumbidgee near the Yanko in a week,
And passed through old Narrandera and crossed the Burnet Creek.
And we never stopped at Wagga, for we'd Sydney in our eye.
But we camped at Lazy Harry's, on the road to Gundagai.
Oh, I've seen a lot of girls, my boys, and drunk a lot of beer,
And I've met with some of both, chaps, as has left me mighty queer;
But for beer to knock you sideways, and for girls to make you sigh,
You must camp at Lazy Harry's, on the road to Gundagai.
Well, we chucked our blooming swags off, and we walked into the bar,
And we called for rum-an'-raspb'ry and a shilling each cigar.
But the girl that served the pizen, she winked at Bill and I —
And we camped at Lazy Harry's, not five miles from Gundagai.
In a week the spree was over and the cheque was all knocked down,
So we shouldered our "Matildas," and we turned our backs on town,
And the girls they stood a nobbler as we sadly said "Good bye,"
And we tramped from Lazy Harry's, not five miles from Gundagai.
poem by Anonymous Oceania
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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