Britches
(words & music by wayne - edwards)
Beware of a gal in britches
Yo-di-o-di-o
Never trust no gal in britches
No-di-o-di-o
If you had a sense of this here horse
You would have known it by now of course
Who wears the britches is the boss
Thats a gal, thats a gal in britches
Dont mess with a gal in britches
Yo-di-o-di-o
No feminine gal wears britches
No-di-o-di-o
Shell beg you to come to the country dance
You ride twenty miles for the big romance
She shows up in her brothers pants
Whatd you expect from a girl in britches
Yo-di-o-di-o-i-ay, its none of my misfortune
Yo-di-o-di-o-di-ay, just thought youd like to know
Dont marry no gal in britches
Yo-di-o-di-o
Youll never know which is whichs
No-di-o-di-o
Shell put a halter through your nose
Have you cooking and washing clothes
While she goes chasing them buffaloes
Bet your boots, thats a gal in britches.
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Big Britches
Too big for those big britches...
At the seam they're seen to rip.
No sewing them will masquerade,
The thickness of your hips.
You're too big for those big britches.
Do you care with me to switch?
I'd like to try them on to see,
IF on me they will fit.
I've had my eye on those big britches,
Ever since I was a kid.
I know just how to wear them and stand tall.
I've had my eye on those big britches.
And all you did in them was sit.
Stretching them with a lazy way you crave.
Too big for those big britches...
At the seam they're seen to rip.
No sewing them will masquerade,
The thickness of your hips.
You're too big for those big britches.
Do you care with me to switch?
I'd like to try them on to see,
IF on me they will fit.
You're too big for those big britches.
And on me there's a better fit!
You're too big for those big britches.
And on me they will fit!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nobody Weird Like Me
the freakiest show i know
is the show of my own
living my life in and out
of the twilight zone
bust my britches
bless my soul
i'm a freak of nature
walking totem pole
look and see i think you'll agree
nobody weird like me
intercourse with a porpoise
is a dream for me
hell bent on inventing
a new species
bust my britches
bless my soul
i'm a freak of nature
walking totem pole
look and see i think you'll agree
nobody weird like me
riding down the path
on the back of a giraffe
me and the giraffe laughed
cause i passed some gas
bust my britches
bless my soul
i'm a freak of nature
walking totem pole
look and see i think you'll agree
nobody weird like me
enchanted as a rabbit
that my life is a dream
well everything is never
just as it seems
the freakiest show i know
is the show of my own
living my life in and out
of the twilight zone
song performed by by Red Hot Chili Peppers from Mother's Milk
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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And this for DR with thanks
moleskin britches
need luminous stitches
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Button Down Your Hatches Quick
Button down your hatches quick...
You lassies fast grabbing lads.
Pull up your britches over your hips.
The commander comes to inspect the ship.
And we with a quickened pace must ensure...
The commander leaves impressed with it.
Remove all makeup from the boys.
And you girls make sure you wear slips.
Don't embarrass yourselves with low self esteem.
Remember the oath to maintain our greatness.
No matter what trash we wallow in and permit.
Impress with image to prove none of us are misfits.
Button down your hatches quick...
You lassies fast grabbing lads.
Pull up your britches over your hips.
The commander comes to inspect the ship.
And fast we must ensure...
The commander leaves impressed with it.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Too Big For Your Britches?
a man who digs ditches
in old worn out clothes
will split uptight britches
you might do this for years
loosing sight of real riches
in arguments fighting friends
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sew Who Needs Who
You're a needling....me
like a sewing machine
I'm in stitches over you
If I wanted to be nagged
I'd clothe in leather...dragged
Don't look at my unbridled soul
Will horseshoes bring us luck?
More likely hockey falls on us
while we're chasing one good puck
I tried to slightly sew this up
in a rags to riches way
but the rags were hags
the britches were bitches
no matter what I say
poem by Boink Boink
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Honky Tonk Badonkadonk
Turn it up some
Alright boys, this is her favorite song
You know that right
So, if we play it good and loud
She might get up and dance again
Ooh, she put her beer down
Here she comes
Here she comes
Left left left right left
Whoo
Husslers shootin' eightball
Throwin' darts at the wall
Feelin' damn near 10 ft. tall
Here she comes, Lord help us all
Ol' T.W.'s girlfriend done slapped him outta his chair
Poor ole boy, it ain't his fault
It's so hard not to stare
At that honky tonk badonkadonk
Keepin' perfect rhythm
Make ya wanna swing along
Got it goin' on
Like Donkey Kong
And whoo-wee
Shut my mouth, slap your grandma
There outta be a law
Get the Sheriff on the phone
Lord have mercy, how's she even get them britches on
That honky tonk badonkadonk
(Aww son)
Now Honey, you can't blame her
For what her mama gave her
You ain't gotta hate her
For workin' that money-maker
Band shuts down at two
But we're hangin' out till three
We hate to see her go
But love to watch her leave
With that honky tonk badonkadonk
Keepin' perfect rhythm
Make ya wanna swing along
Got it goin' on
Like Donkey Kong
And whoo-wee
Shut my mouth, slap your grandma
There outta be a law
Get the Sheriff on the phone
Lord have mercy, how's she even get them britches on
With that honky tonk badonkadonk
(Ooh, that's what I'm talkin' bout right there, honey)
We don't care bout the drinkin'
Barely listen to the band
Our hands, they start a shakin'
When she gets the urge to dance
Drivin' everybody crazy
You think you fell in love
Boys, you better keep your distance
You can look but you can't touch
That honkey tonk badonkadonk
Keepin' perfect rhythm
Make ya wanna swing along
Got it goin' on
Like Donkey Kong
And whoo-wee
Shut my mouth, slap your grandma
There outta be a law
Get the Sheriff on the phone
Lord have mercy, how's she even get them britches on
That honky tonk badonkadonk
That honky tonk badonkadonk
Yeah, that honky tonk badonkadonk
(That's it, right there boys, that's why we do what we do
It ain't for the money, it ain't for the glory, it ain't for the free whiskey
It's for the badonkadonk]
song performed by by Trace Adkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Honky Tonk Badonkadonk
Turn it up some
Alright boys, this is her favorite song
You know that right
So, if we play it good and loud
She might get up and dance again
Ooh, she put her beer down
Here she comes
Here she comes
Left left left right left
Whoo
Husslers shootin' eightball
Throwin' darts at the wall
Feelin' damn near 10 ft. tall
Here she comes, Lord help us all
Ol' T.W.'s girlfriend done slapped him outta his chair
Poor ole boy, it ain't his fault
It's so hard not to stare
At that honky tonk badonkadonk
Keepin' perfect rhythm
Make ya wanna swing along
Got it goin' on
Like Donkey Kong
And whoo-wee
Shut my mouth, slap your grandma
There outta be a law
Get the Sheriff on the phone
Lord have mercy, how's she even get them britches on
That honky tonk badonkadonk
(Aww son)
Now Honey, you can't blame her
For what her mama gave her
You ain't gotta hate her
For workin' that money-maker
Band shuts down at two
But we're hangin' out till three
We hate to see her go
But love to watch her leave
With that honky tonk badonkadonk
Keepin' perfect rhythm
Make ya wanna swing along
Got it goin' on
Like Donkey Kong
And whoo-wee
Shut my mouth, slap your grandma
There outta be a law
Get the Sheriff on the phone
Lord have mercy, how's she even get them britches on
With that honky tonk badonkadonk
(Ooh, that's what I'm talkin' bout right there, honey)
We don't care bout the drinkin'
Barely listen to the band
Our hands, they start a shakin'
When she gets the urge to dance
Drivin' everybody crazy
You think you fell in love
Boys, you better keep your distance
You can look but you can't touch
That honkey tonk badonkadonk
Keepin' perfect rhythm
Make ya wanna swing along
Got it goin' on
Like Donkey Kong
And whoo-wee
Shut my mouth, slap your grandma
There outta be a law
Get the Sheriff on the phone
Lord have mercy, how's she even get them britches on
That honky tonk badonkadonk
That honky tonk badonkadonk
Yeah, that honky tonk badonkadonk
(That's it, right there boys, that's why we do what we do
It ain't for the money, it ain't for the glory, it ain't for the free whiskey
It's for the badonkadonk]
song performed by by Trace Adkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pickle Belt
The fruit rolled by all day.
They prayed the cogs would creep;
They thought about Saturday pay,
And Sunday sleep.
Whatever he smelled was good:
The fruit and flesh smells mixed.
There beside him she stood,--
And he, perplexed;
He, in his shrunken britches,
Eyes rimmed with pickle dust,
Prickling with all the itches
Of sixteen-year-old lust.
poem by Theodore Roethke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Child on Top of a Greenhouse
The wind billowing out the seat of my britches,
My feet crackling splinters of glass and dried putty,
The half-grown chrysanthemums staring up like accusers,
Up through the streaked glass, flashing with sunlight,
A few white clouds all rushing eastward,
A line of elms plunging and tossing like horses,
And everyone, everyone pointing up and shouting!
poem by Theodore Roethke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Little Mistake
’Tis a yarn I heard of a new-chum ‘trap’
On the edge of the Never-Never,
Where the dead men lie and the black men lie,
And the bushman lies for ever.
’Twas the custom still with the local blacks
To cadge in the ‘altogether’—
They had less respect for our feelings then,
And more respect for the weather.
The trooper said to the sergeant’s wife:
‘Sure, I wouldn’t seem unpleasant;
‘But there’s women and childer about the place,
‘And—barrin’ a lady’s present—
‘There’s ould King Billy wid niver a stitch
‘For a month—may the drought cremate him!—
‘Bar the wan we put in his dirty head,
‘Where his old Queen Mary bate him.
‘God give her strength!—and a peaceful reign—
‘Though she flies in a bit av a passion
‘If ony wan hints that her shtoyle an’ luks
‘Are a trifle behind the fashion.
‘There’s two of the boys by the stable now—
‘Be the powers! I’ll teach the varmints
‘To come wid nought but a shirt apiece,
‘And wid dirt for their nayther garmints.
‘Howld on, ye blaggards! How dare ye dare
‘To come widin sight av the houses?—
‘I’ll give ye a warnin’ all for wance
‘An’ a couple of ould pair of trousers.’
They took the pants as a child a toy,
The constable’s words beguiling
A smile of something beside their joy;
And they took their departure smiling.
And that very day, when the sun was low,
Two blackfellows came to the station;
They were filled with the courage of Queensland rum
And bursting with indignation.
The constable noticed, with growing ire,
They’d apparently dressed in a hurry;
And their language that day, I am sorry to say,
Mostly consisted of ‘plurry.’
The constable heard, and he wished himself back
In the land of the bogs and the ditches—
‘You plurry big tight-britches p’liceman, what for
‘You gibbit our missuses britches?’
And this was a case, I am bound to confess,
Where civilisation went under;
Had one of the gins been less modest in dress
He’d never have made such a blunder.
And here let the moral be duly made known,
And hereafter signed and attested:
We should place more reliance on that which is shown
And less upon what is suggested.
poem by Henry Lawson
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St. James Infirmary Blues
Folks, I'm goin' down to St. James Infirmary,
See my baby there;
She's stretched out on a long, white table,
She's so sweet, so cold, so fair.
Let her go, let her go, God bless her,
Wherever she may be,
She will search this wide world over,
But she'll never find another sweet man like me.
Now, when I die, bury me in my straight-leg britches,
Put on a box-back coat and a stetson hat,
Put a twenty-dollar gold piece on my watch chain,
So you can let all the boys know I died standing pat.
Folks, now that you have heard my story,
Say, boy, hand me another shot of that booze;
If anyone should ask you,
Tell 'em I've got those St. James Infirmary blues.
song performed by by White Stripes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Successful Failure
I wonder if successful men
Are always happy?
And do they sing with gusto when
Springtime is sappy?
Although I am of snow-white hair
And nighly mortal,
Each time I sniff the April air
I chortle.
I wonder if a millionaire
Jigs with enjoyment,
Having such heaps of time to spare
For daft employment.
For as I dance the Highland Fling
My glee is muckle,
And doping out new songs to sing
I chuckle.
I wonder why so soon forgot
Are fame and riches;
Let cottage comfort be my lot
With well-worn britches.
As in a pub a poor unknown,
Brown ale quaffing,
To think of all I'll never own,--
I'm laughing.
poem by Robert William Service
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Illustrious Ancestors
The Rav
of Northern White Russia declined,
in his youth, to learn the
language of birds, because
the extraneous did not interest him; nevertheless
when he grew old it was found
he understood them anyway, having
listened well, and as it is said, 'prayed
with the bench and the floor.' He used
what was at hand--as did
Angel Jones of Mold, whose meditations
were sewn into coats and britches.
Well, I would like to make,
thinking some line still taut between me and them,
poems direct as what the birds said,
hard as a floor, sound as a bench,
mysterious as the silence when the tailor
would pause with his needle in the air.
poem by Denise Levertov
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Baddest Boots
I saw her turn her head
In a drop-dead gaze
She was peekin' out over the top
Of those wire-rim shades
Now it wasn't my charm
And it wasn't my grin
That had that little secretary
Dialed right in
She wasn't lookin' at me, man
she was lookin' at my feet
Chorus:
It's these twenty-two hundred
And twenty-five dollar
Pair o' handmade genuine fine
Horned-back kicks
With a seven-row stitch
And a three dollar sidewalk shine
Yeah they're made to fit
and they're hard to find
Make a pretty woman look down each time
I got the baddest boots on the boulevard
Yeah the baddest boots on the boulevard
They were made by a little man
Down in El Paso
I was passin' though town
Singin' at the rodeo
He said 'they cost a little more
But for what it's worth
There ain't another pair like 'em
on god's green earth'
Then I handed him my money
And he sized me up
Chorus
I got the baddest boots on the boulevard
Yeah, the Baddest boots on the boulevard
When I pull 'em on I start singin' a song
Make me wanna tuck my britches leg's inside 'em
Lets take a stroll
Chorus
They're the baddest boots on the boulevard
Look here girl
Yeah, they're bad alright
song performed by by Toby Keith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Heart Wont Wander Very Far From You
1st. verse
Well honey dont you worry I dont need no ballroom queen,
Though Ill admit she sure know how to fill a pair of jeans,
And Ill admit now darlin she sure showin me her stuff
But honey it aint nearly enough,
1st. chorus
Cause I aint never seen her patch a pair of ragged britches
Stretch a paycheck til it reaches, scratch my back right where it itches
And I aint never seen that and honey til I do
My heart wont wonder very far from you,
2nd. verse
Now honey you know I honor all the hard times we been through
I never could have made it with anyone but you
And I think I know when a lady is really really tough
But she dont show me nearly enough,
2nd. chorus
Cause I aint never seen her stay up all night with the baby
Calm me down when I get crazy, fix me grits and red eyes gravy
And I aint never seen that and honey til I do
My heart wont wonder very far from you
Last chorus
No I aint never seen her make a six room house a castle
Teach the young ones how to wrastle,
Straighten out my fish and tackle
And I aint seen that and honey til I do
My heart wont wonder very far from you
No I aint never seen that and honey til I do
My heart wont wonder very far from you.
song performed by by George Strait
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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O'Bruaidar
I will sing no more songs: the pride of my country I sang
Through forty long years of good rhyme, without any avail;
And no one cared even as much as the half of a hang
For the song or the singer, so here is an end to the tale.
If a person should think I complain and have not got the cause,
Let him bring his eyes here and take a good look at my hand,
Let him say if a goose-quill has calloused this poor pair of paws
Or the spade that I grip on and dig with out there in the land?
When the great ones were safe and renowned and were rooted and tough,
Though my mind went to them and took joy in the fortune of those,
And pride in their pride and their fame, they gave little enough,
Not as much as two boots for my feet, or an old suit of clothes.
I ask a Craftsman that fashioned the fly and the bird,
Of the Champion whose passion will lift me from death in a time,
Of the Spirit that melts icy hearts with the wind of a word,
That my people be worthy, and get, better singing than mine.
I had hoped to live decent, when Ireland was quit of her care,
As a bailiff or steward perhaps in a house of degree,
But my end of the tale is, old brogues and old britches to wear,
So I'll sing no more songs for the men that care nothing for me.
poem by James Stephens
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Inspiration
How often have I started out
With no thought in my noodle,
And wandered here and there about,
Where fancy bade me toddle;
Till feeling faunlike in my glee
I've voiced some gay distiches,
Returning joyfully to tea,
A poem in my britches.
A-squatting on a thymy slope
With vast of sky about me,
I've scribbled on an envelope
The rhymes the hills would shout me;
The couplets that the trees would call,
The lays the breezes proffered . . .
Oh no, I didn't think at all -
I took what Nature offered.
For that's the way you ought to write -
Without a trace of trouble;
Be super-charged with high delight
And let the words out-bubble;
Be voice of vale and wood and stream
Without design or proem:
Then rouse from out a golden dream
To find you've made a poem.
So I'll go forth with mind a blank,
And sea and sky will spell me;
And lolling on a thymy bank
I'll take down what they tell me;
As Mother Nature speaks to me
Her words I'll gaily docket,
So I'll come singing home to tea
A poem in my pocket.
poem by Robert William Service
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Midnight Man
By dickey betts, warren haynes
Copyright 1991 sony music entertainment, inc.
Transcribed by ed luskey
Got my snake skin britches, alligator shoes,
Money in my pocket, and a memphis attitude.
Wear my downtown stetson with a silver on the crown,
When I get started rolling baby, there aint no slowin me down.
Im your midnight man, guaranteed to love you like nobody can.
Im your midnight man, if you dont know by now, somehow Im gonna make you understand,
Im your midnight man and I love you till the daylight babe.
Got my six shooter, gonna shoot it up in the air,
If it feels real good, I might shoot it just everywhere.
Got my best mojo, and my hoochie coochie too,
Gonna put it all together gonna get after you
Im your midnight man, guaranteed to love you like nobody can.
Im your midnight man, if you dont know by now, somehow Im gonna make you understand,
Im your midnight man and I love you till the daylight babe.
One things for certain since I been foolin with you,
My reputations hurtin and I dont know what to do.
All of my little downtown girls, say Im wasting time,
There aint no use to fight it, I just cant get you outta my mind.
Im your midnight man, guaranteed to love you like nobody can.
Im your midnight man, if you dont know by now, somehow Im gonna make you understand,
Im your midnight man, and I love you till the daylight babe.
Hey, midnight, midnight man.
song performed by by Allman Brothers Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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