Stalin Malone
I'm going to make you even fear the dream you dream
So don't even think about it don't make a wish
You think that i don't see you as you trawl those young weak fish
Hooked on those poor wonders, 'til they want you alone
Though they can't tell a cuckoo-clock from the squeals of saxophones
That's when they'll fear my name
Stalin malone
I'm telling you the day will come when this man gets what he merits
Though people still wear animal skins to ward off evil spirits
Only wife-swapping and witchcraft woke the dormitory town
'til horse's heads up in the trees came dripping down
Yes, horse's heads up hung in the trees after the bird had flown
Did you wonder of my whereabouts as the barrack-room was blown
Did anybody call my name?
Stalin malone
In a room called creation, where you all obey my laws
Where seconal is gravity and pain is like applause
You think that this phenomenon is some coincidence
But i've got people everywhere, you're under
My surveillance, in the pocket of my pants
Okay, she left me, but i'll soon get over that
Falling out of the "blood tub" and rolling, on my back
Waking up to the one o'clock gun with a punch and judy bird
Reaching out for a gelignite beer that fills me up with murder
To overhear forbidden songs her lover must have known
Between the pity and advice...
"there's no one here to help you now, but speak after the tone"
Leave for me a message of hope
Stalin malone
Now the church door is a roller-shutter with padlocks and keys
Just like all of the other dispensaries
The saloon is like a casket, stained wood and human dust
Stale with conversation that hangs on your clothes like smoke
The wooden clock said she would dance dressed only in flower
As the jazz band drowns the hysterical bird that it spits out on the hour
I'd drop out of sight and disappear, turn up in another town, but somehow
I just can't seem to put it down, put it down, put it down
I just want to hold her now in that i'm not alone
But do i have to see her fall into his arms before i can atone..
Get my jacket on, get my story straight, i'm leaving on my own
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
The Cuckoo Clock
The cuckoo flew out of the clock
and landed on the arm chair.
It looked me in the eye and said,
“I’m not going back in there!
People expect too much of me,
going back and forth all day.
I’m not going back inside.
No! Never! No way.
The clock’s none stop ticking
has made my head feel sore
Calling ‘cuckoo’ 24-7 it’s too much,
I’m not doing it any more.
I want to breathe the fresh air,
and feel the rain and sun.
I want to be able to fly around
and enjoy proper cuckoo fun.
I should be leaving my eggs
here, there, and everywhere.
Eating lots of juicy worms,
and being free without a care.
What do you mean I’m not real
and I’m only made of wood?
Of course I am; I call out ‘cuckoo’
like every cuckoo should.
Just put me on the windowsill
and I’ll show you how I can fly.
Why..? I can’t move my wings,
no matter how much I try.
And I can’t call out ‘cuckoo’,
my ‘cuckoo’ cry has gone.
My head and body won’t move,
and my wings won’t open.
Oh dear, what am I to do?
I’m just a piece of wood.
I’ve been shaped like a bird
and my paint job’s not so good.
I’ve a spring sticking out my bottom
and my feathers aren’t feathers at all.
I haven’t a sound to call my own,
and when I try to fly I fall…
Will you please put me back in the clock?
It’s the only place I can call my home.
I’ll be happy to remind you of the time,
and I promise never again to moan.
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Dining Room
A room with low windows, with brown shades,
Where a Danzig clock keeps silent in the corner;
A low leather sofa; and right above it
The sculpted heads of two smiling devils;
And a copper pan shows its gleaming paunch.
On the wall a painting that depicts winter.
A crowd of people skate on ice
Between the trees, smoke comes from a chimney,
And crows fly in an overcast sky.
Nearby a second clock. A bird sits inside.
It pops out squawking and calls three times.
And it has barely finished its third and last call
When mother ladles out soup from a hot tureen.
poem by Czeslaw Milosz
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My Cuckoo Clock
I bought a cuckoo clock
And glad was I
To hear its tick and tock,
Its dulcet cry.
But Jones, whose wife is young
And pretty too,
Winced when that bird gave tongue:
Cuckoo! Cuckoo!
I have a lady friend
Whom I would wed,
For dalliance should end
In bridal bed.
Until the thought occurred:
Can she be true?
And then I heard that bird:
Cuckoo! Cuckoo!
Though ignorance is bliss
And love be blind,
Faithless may be the kiss
Of womankind.
So now sweet echoes mock
My wish to woo:
Confound that cursed clock!
Cuckoo! Cuckoo!
poem by Robert William Service
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Paddy Malone In Australia
Och! my name's Pat Malone, and I'm from Tipperary.
Sure, I don't know it now I'm so bothered, Ohone!
And the gals that I danced with, light-hearted and airy,
It's scarcely they'd notice poor Paddy Malone.
'Tis twelve months or more since our ship she cast anchor
In happy Australia, the Emigrant's home,
And from that day to this there's been nothing but canker,
And grafe and vexation for Paddy Malone.
Oh, Paddy Malone! Oh, Paddy, Ohone!
Bad luck to the agent that coaxed ye to roam.
Wid a man called a squatter I soon got a place, sure,
He'd a beard like a goat, and such whiskers, Ohone!
And he said—as he peeped through the hair on his faitures
That he liked the appearance of Paddy Malone.
Wid him I agreed to go up to his station,
Saying abroad in the bush you'll find yourself at home.
I liked his proposal, and 'out hesitation
Signed my name wid a X that spelt Paddy Malone.
Oh, Paddy Malone, you're no scholard, Ohone!
Sure, I made a cris-crass that spelt Paddy Malone.
A-herding my sheep in the bush, as they call it
It was no bush at all, but a mighty great wood,
Wid all the big trees that were small bushes one time,
A long time ago, faith I 'spose 'fore the flood.
To find out this big bush one day I went further,
The trees grew so thick that I couldn't, Ohone!
I tried to go back then, but that I found harder,
And bothered and lost was poor Paddy Malone.
Oh, Paddy Malone, through the bush he did roam
What a Babe in the Wood was poor Paddy Malone.
I was soon overcome, sure, wid grafe and vexation,
And camped, you must know, by the side of a log;
I was found the next day by a man from the station,
For I coo-ey'd and roared like a bull in a bog.
The man said to me, "Arrah, Pat! where's the sheep now?"
Says I, "I dunno! barring one here at home,"
And the master began and kicked up a big row too,
And swore he'd stop the wages of Paddy Malone.
Arrah! Paddy Malone, you're no shepherd, Ohone!
We'll try you with bullocks now, Paddy Malone.
To see me dressed out with my team and my dray too,
Wid a whip like a flail and such gaiters, Ohone!
But the bullocks, as they eyed me, they seemed for to say too,
"You may do your best, Paddy, we're blest if we go."
"Gee whoa! Redman! come hither, Damper!
Hoot, Magpie! Gee, Blackbird! Come hither,
Whalebone!"
But the brutes turned round sharp, and away they did scamper,
And heels over head turned poor Paddy Malone.
Oh, Paddy Malone! you've seen some bulls at home,
But the bulls of Australia cows Paddy Malone.
I was found the next day where the brutes they did throw me
By a man passing by, upon hearing me groan,
And wiping the mud from my face that he knew me,
Says he, "Your name's Paddy?" "Yes! Paddy Malone."
I thin says to him, "You're an angel sent down, sure!"
"No, faith, but I'm not; but a friend of your own!"
And by his persuasion, for home then I started,
And you now see before you poor Paddy Malone.
Arrah, Paddy Malone! you are now safe at home.
Bad luck to the agent that coaxed ye to roam.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Cuckoo Clock
We knew it must have been late
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
We had no time to wait
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I went to light the fireplace
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I planned it all this way, and
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I snuggled close to her
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
Her heart began to purr
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I held my breath inside, and then
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I put my arms around her
(tick-tock)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo
I put that birdie away
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
His cuckoo was gone to stay
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
We both apologized for why
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
Forgave that doggone cuckoo
I went back to her side
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I had to swallow my pride
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
The fire had almost died away
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
We just got situated
(tick-tock)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo
I took that clock apart
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I broke the cuckoos heart
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
Hell never bother us again
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
We just forgot about him
(tick-tock)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Ghosts
Said Lenin's ghost to Stalin's ghost:
"Mate with me in the Tomb;
Then day by day the rancid host
May gaze upon our doom.
A crystal casket we will share;
Come, crusty Comrade come,
And we will bear the public stare,
Ad nauseum."
Said Stalin's spook to Lenin's spook:
"Long have you held your place.
The masses must be bored to look
Upon your chemic face.
A change might be a good idear,
And though I pity you,
There is within the Tomb, I fear,
No room for two."
Said Lenin's wraith to Stalin's wraith:
"You're welcome to my job;
Let millions of our mighty faith
Gaze on your noble nob.
So when to goodly earth I've gone,
(And I'll be glad to go),
Your carrion can carry on
Our waxwork show."
poem by Robert William Service
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Between Sleep and Waking
SOFTLY in a dream I heard,
Ere the day was breaking,
Softly call a cuckoo bird
Between sleep and waking.
Calling through the rippling rain
And red orchard blossom;
Calling up old love again,
Buried in my bosom;
Calling till he brought you too
From some magic region;
And the whole spring followed you,
Birds on birds in legion.
Youth was in your beaming glance,
Love a rainbow round you;
Blushing trees began to dance,
Wreaths of roses crowned you.
And I called your name, and woke
To the cuckoo's calling;
And you waned in waning smoke,
As the rain was falling.
Had the cuckoo called 'Adieu,'
Ere the day was breaking?
All the old wounds bled anew
Between sleep and waking.
poem by Mathilde Blind
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The Hangman's Great Hands
And all that is this day. . .
The boy with cap slung over what had been a face. ..
Somehow the cop will sleep tonight, will make love to his
wife...
Anger won't help. I was born angry. Angry that my father was
being burnt alive in the mills; Angry that none of us knew
anything but filth, and poverty. Angry because I was that very
one somebody was supposed To be fighting for
Turn him over; take a good look at his face...
Somebody is going to see that face for a long time.
I wash his hands that in the brightness they will shine.
We have a parent called the earth.
To be these buds and trees; this tameless bird Within the
ground; this season's act upon the fields of Man.
To be equal to the littlest thing alive,
While all the swarming stars move silent through The merest
flower
. .. but the fog of guns.
The face with all the draining future left blank. . . Those smug
saints, whether of church or Stalin, Can get off the back of
my people, and stay off. Somebody is supposed to be fighting
for somebody. . . And Lenin is terribly silent, terribly silent
and dead.
poem by Kenneth Patchen
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I Saw A New World
I SAW a new world in my dream,
Where all the folks alike did seem:
There was no Child, there was no Mother,
There was no Change, there was no Other.
For everything was Same, the Same;
There was no praise, there was no blame;
There was neither Need nor Help for it;
There was nothing fitting or unfit.
Nobody laugh’d, nobody wept;
None grew weary, so none slept;
There was nobody born, and nobody wed;
This world was a world of the living-dead.
I long’d to hear the Time-Clock strike
In the world where people were all alike;
I hated Same, I hated Forever;
I long’d to say Neither, or even Never.
I long’d to mend, I long’d to make;
I long’d to give, I long’d to take;
I long’d for a change, whatever came after,
I long’d for crying, I long’d for laughter.
At last I heard the Time-Clock boom,
And woke from my dream in my little room;
With a smile on her lips my Mother was nigh,
And I heard the Baby crow and cry.
And I thought to myself, How nice it is
For me to live in a world like this,
Where things can happen, and clocks can strike,
And none of the people are made alike;
Where Love wants this, and Pain wants that,
Where all our hearts want Tit for Tat
In the jumbles we make with our heads and our hands,
In a world that nobody understands,
But with work, and hope, and the right to call
Upon Him who sees it and knows us all!
poem by William Brighty Rands
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Old News
Old News
As the clock struck seven, a summer evening, outside
the town hall, a horse pulling a cart bolted. The driver
fell off and broke a leg, a policeman on duty was able
to stop the horse and calm it down. In our small inland
town this was a big event and many people took their
evening walk down to the town hall and stood in groups
listening to what the witnesses, two elderly men who
spent their time there sometimes doing odd jobs but
mostly hung around doing nothing; now for once they
had an audience and were treated as equals. News get
old and little is as stale as yesterdays´ the driver’s leg
mended, the horse was made into glue and tasty salami,
no one was interested in what a pair of layabouts had
to say, not now that a circus was coming to town.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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There are still some people who think that we have Stalin to thank for all our progress, who quake before Stalin's dirty underdrawers, who stand at attention and salute them.
quote by Nikita Khrushchev
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Any Day Now
(words & music by b. bacharach - b. hilliard)
Any day now I will hear you say
Goodbye my love
Youll be on your way
Then my wild beautiful bird
You will have flown
Any day now Ill be all alone
Oh, oh, oh
Any day now, when your restless eyes
Meet someone new
To my sad surprise
Then the blue shadow will fall all over town
Any day now
Love will let me down
Oh, oh, oh
I know I shouldnt want to keep you
If you dont want to stay, yeah
Until youve gone forever
Ill be holding on for dear life
Holding you this way
Begging you to stay
Any day now
When the clock strikes go
Youll call it off
Then my tears will flow
Then the blue shadow will fall all over town
Any day now
Love will let me down
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, any day now
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, any day now
Dont fly away my beautiful bird
Dont fly away my beautiful bird
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At Six O'clock
I heard the Ave Maria at six o'clock,
Today hear crimes on the radio at six o'clock.
I watched The Little Princess on tv at six o'clock,
Today watch explicit sex at six o’clock.
I was playing catch-up with my friends at six o'clock,
Today lonely children play atari at six o'clock.
I drank hot soup at six o’clock,
Today guys smoke crack at six o'clock.
I prayed to the guardian angel at six o'clock,
Today they kill people at six o'clock.
I studied algebra at six o'clock,
Today are planned crimes at six o'clock.
I was happy at six o'clock,
Today are all scared at six o'clock.
Parody in honor of Llorca
poem by Aschelminto Da Silva
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Punch & Judy
(fish / marillion)
Punch
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Washing machine, pinstripe dream
Stripped the gloss from a beauty queen
Punch and judy, judy
Found our nest, in the daily express
Met the vicar in a holy vest
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Brought up the children church of e
Now I vegetate with a colour tv
Worst ever thing that ever happened to me
Oh, for d.i.v.o.r.c.e.
Oh judy
Whatever happened to pillow fights
Whatever happened to jeans so tight, friday nights
Whatever happened to lovers lane
Whatever happened to passion games
Sunday walks in the pouring rain
Punch
Punch
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Punch
Punch
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Curling tongs, mogadons, I got a headache baby, dont take so long
Single beds, middle age dread
Losing the war in the waistlands spread
Who left the cap of the toothpaste tube
Who forgot to flush the loo
Leave your sweaty socks outside the door
Dont walk across my polished floor, oh judy
Whatever happened to morning smiles
Whatever happened to wicked wiles, permissive styles
Whatever happened to twinkling eyes
Whatever happened to hard fast drives
Complements on unnatural size
Punch
Punch
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Punch
Punch
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Propping up a bar, family car
Sweating out a mortgage as a balding clerk
Punch and judy, judy
World war three, suburbanshee
Just slip her these pills and Ill be free.
No more judy
Judy, judy no more!
Goodbye judy!
song performed by by Marillion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mother, Can you Hear Me! !
I woke up one morning at 3 o’clock at night
And I saw this light surrounding me
I went over to wake up my sister
To make sure that she too could see
I tried waking her up
But there was no reply
I went to my mother’s room
That was close by
Before I could wake her up
She was already awake at sight
Then I heard her say to my dad
“Let’s go and check if the children are alright”
As she walked past our room
I looked at her and said “mother, mother can u hear me? ”
But then I look aside on the person on my bed
I asked myself who that person could be
And then I looked closer…
That person on my bed sleeping silently was me!
I tried calling to my mother while she tried waking me up
I could see her tears running down like hard rain
I could see her thoughts overwhelmed with pain
And there I found out with a startling shock
I had died exactly at 3 O’clock.
poem by Marria Attar
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The Lonely Room
Tiptoe around the room.
What is it that is found?
Silence, except for the clock that's ticking
nothing else is around.
An empty room with nothing in it,
only the clock that ticks the minute
in this lonely room.
Why was the clock left behind
with not a soul to tell the time?
It was on the mantelpiece
with nobody to hear it chime.
Was it left as a reminder?
I think it would have been kinder
to remove it from the room.
Left alone, it had no purpose.
Who could hear it now?
Ghosts from the past that once lived here
that have taken a vow
to listen to the clock's every minute
in the room with nothing in it
but the ghosts and the time.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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In Mr Atkinson's Room
You saw Judy on the south wing
of the old folks nursing home
near to Mr Atkinson's room
carrying towels in her arms
I need to speak to you
you said
what about?
she asked
you playfully bundled her
into Bob Atkinson's room
(he was either
in the lounge
or out down town
hobbling along
for small items of shopping
or at the second-hand
book shop looking
for boy's annuals
of yesteryear
which he read
from cover to cover
before cutting out
the pictures
and sticking them
in albums)
what are you doing?
she said
what if Bob comes in?
he won't
he's out
you said
but what if he does?
she whispered
well unless I was rogering you
to kingdom come
I don't think he'd mind
you said
pressing her 5'5'' body
against the door
and looking into her
grey blue eyes
she gazed
into your eyes
and said
what do you need
to talk to me about?
I think I'm in love with you
you said
she sighed
that's the umpteen time
you've told me that
she said
she dropped the towels
on Bob's bed
and put her arms
around your waist
and drew you closer
you moved your left hand
around her back
and your right hand
on her buttocks
and said
that's because it's
umpteen times worse
or better depending
how you look at it
she kissed you on the lips
and you sensed
her tongue touch yours
her eyes closed
and you closed yours
the room becoming
a far away place
her perfume blending
into the air about you
the ticktock of Bob's
old clock on the bedside table
like some metronome
setting the pace
as if it was all part
of some song or some
deep aspect
of a Bruckner symphony
she pushed you away
and said
it's nearly break time
and people will wonder
why we're not there
and put one
and one together
ok
you said
removing your hand
from her butt
the warmth still there
her eyes still captured
in your inner self
thank you
for the Chagall postcard
I've put it on
my bedside table
along with that photo
you gave me of you
got to go
she said
and opened the door
and walked off
down the passage
you looked around
Bob's room
at the ticking clock
and the blue
candlewick cover
and the picture
of some boy
cut out of some
old annual
chasing a dog
over a field
and Judy's lips
and tongue
seemed still
to be there
in your mouth
and her hand enfolding
your waist and back
and Peter in the pants
going all slack.
poem by Terry Collett
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Bird Has Flown
Oh the beggar on his cornerstone
Catches pity in his wrinkled hand
But the lover whose bird has flown
Catches nothing only grains of sand
All the children in the distant house
They have feelings only children know
But the lover whose bird has flown
Catches nothing only flakes of snow
The sensation is not new to you
Its something we all have known
You get it - it goes right through you
Yes its something we all have known
And the bird it has flown
To a place on its own
Somewhere all alone
Now the hermit in his lonely cave
Has himself to keep him company
But the lover whose bird has flown
He has heartaches same as you and me
The sensations not new to you
Its something we all have known
You get it - it goes right through you
Yes its something we all have known
And the bird it has flown
Now the hermit in his lonely cave
Has himself to keep him company
But the lover whose bird has flown
He has heartaches same as you and me
Oh its started snowing
song performed by by Deep Purple
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Blame You
Ten miles from nowhere
Theres a story thats true
About a fine girl
And a boy just like you
They fell so deeply
But then fell apart
Now they say the same words
Of what used to be
What used to be
I blame you (I blame you)
I blame you (I blame you)
I blame you (I blame you)
He drops his car keys
And crawls on the ground
Finds her old haircomb
Shed wear into town
Cant bear to keep it
Or throw it away
Gets back down on his kness
Put it back where it lay
Back where it lay
I blame you (I blame you)
I blame you (I blame you)
I blame you (I blame you)
Notes
There is a different song on dial-a-song with the same tune as this. it is titled free birds rebirth, and goes:
Listen dear people
To a story so sad
About a poor boy
Who never went bad
He got some chain mail
But he broke the chain
Now he must sing free bird
Again and again
Again and again
Again and again
Free bird
Free bird
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Flower and Bird
Amongst the lonely branches of a tree,
Stood a lovely flower fragrant and free,
She was the sight of every passer-by,
'What a beautiful flower! ' people would cry.
The flower in the prime of its youth,
Couldn’t identify life and its real truth,
Proud by its fragrance and beauty it stood,
And thought that beauty was what made it good,
Impressed by its beauty a little bird would sing,
The tale of its love and the whole valley would ring,
Perched on the branch of the great oak tree,
The bird sings its love for the flower to see,
People would stop and look at this tale,
Of the beautiful lady and the gallant male.
And one day the bird let its heart out,
And the beautiful flower refused with pout,
The bird wanting its beloved’s heart,
Asked her, 'What do I do so that we don’t part? '
And the proud flower told the lonely bird,
'There is a flower down the valley, have you heard?
Its brilliant red, is said is more beautiful than me,
So dear bird, make me red, as red as I can be! '
The bird said, 'But your beauty is no match,
So beautiful are you that my heart, you did catch! '
The flower in its pride and anger,
Told the bird 'Oh! Don’t bother',
The sadness in its eyes, the bird couldn’t see,
And said, 'I gift the colour red to thee! '
Saying this he pierced his heart on a thorn,
And spilt the blood on her till he was torn,
And the flower indeed did become red,
With the love of the little bird’s blood,
People would stare at the beautiful flower,
And amongst the branches it would hover,
The people passing soon forgot the song of the bird,
But the silent lament of the flower was never heard,
The flower never forgot the love of its bird,
But the melody of the poor bird was never heard!
poem by Supriya Mothay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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