One finger can't ketch louse
Jamaican proverbs
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Quintetto
[To the tune of "Turning, turning, turning, as wheel goes round."]
RECITATIVE. MR. PAPERSTAMP:
Jack Horner's CHRISTMAS PIE my learned nurse
Interpreted to mean the public purse.
From thence a plum he drew. O happy Horner!
Who would not be ensconced in thy snug corner
THE FIVE:
While round the public board all eagerly we linger,
for what we can get we will try, try, try:
And we'll all have a finger, a finger, a finger,
We'll all have a finger in the CHRISTMAS PIE.
MR. FEATHERNEST:
By my own poetic laws, I'm a dealer in applause
For those who don't deserve it, but will buy, buy
So round the court I linger, and thus I get a finget
A finger, finger, finger in the CHRISTMAS PIE.
THE FIVE:
And we'll all have a finger, a finger, a finger,
We'll all have a finger in the CHRISTMAS PIE.
MR. VAMP:
My share of pie to win, I will dash through thick and thin
And philosophy and liberty shall fly, fly, fly:
And truth and taste shall know, that their eve Iasting foe
Has a finger, finger, finger in the CHRISTMAS PIE.
THE FIVE:
And we'll all have a finger, a finger, a finger,
We'll all have a finger in the CHRISTMAS PIE.
MR. KILLTHEDEAD:
I'll make my verses rattle with the din of war and battle,
[...] Read more
poem by Thomas Love Peacock
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Tripoli
One to ten of you lesser men—these are the odds we crave:
For the ring of the sword, at the cry to board, is a song that befits the brave.
Board and burn, that ye well may learn, how American tars atone:
Borrow ye may, but there dawns a day when we come to claim our own!
Tripolitan pirate and Turkish thief, they had harried her there on the sunken reef,
Plundered, and robbed, and stripped her crew, for such was Tripoli law:
Lowered her barred and star-set flag, and run to her peak their pirate rag,
For the shaming of William Bainbridge and the fame of Jussuf Bashaw!
They had towed the wreck to the haven’s neck, and under the castle’s guns,
And bound and jailed all them that sailed as the Philadelphia’s sons:
So the frigate lay in Tripoli Bay, by the Molehead batteries pinned,
And along her flank, in a watchful rank, the guardian gunboats grinned!
Out of the Gulf of Sidra’s gales, a brig and a ketch, with flattened sails,
Slid toward Tripoli harbor as the sun ahead went down,
And, by the forts of Jussuf Bashaw pinned like prey in a panther’s paw,
The captured frigate at anchor saw, in the curve of the pirate town.
And one of the pair had the peaceful air of a merchantman landward led,
And one of the two a Maltese crew, in fezzes of flaming red;
But they muttered on deck as they marked the speck of the flag that swung on high
Where the crimson bars and the silver stars had rippled against the sky!
Then a wind came out of the cool northwest, and lifted the ketch on a heaving crest,
Bulging her sails till the sea sang low at the touch of her slender prore,
And she leapt, with the joy of a living soul, through the narrow channel ’twixt reef and shoal,
And ran, like a racer, toward the goal of the tall black hull inshore!
But the brig lay to on the darkening blue of the offing, a mile outside,
And watched the ketch on the rippling stretch of the fort-girt harbor ride,
Till out of the light she slid from sight, tackle, and sails, and mast,
Undismayed, in the sombre shade that the hull of the frigate cast.
Now the staunch Sicilian pilot cried to them that leaned on the frigate’s side:
“This is the Stella of Malta, with her anchors swept away,
And her cables, too, to the very last, when the storm of yester night went past.
So we crave your leave to take a fast from your quarter until the day.”
“And what ye ask is an easy task” an officer made reply.
“Since ye have no line, I will send you mine, with leave in our lee to lie.”
So the ketch crept near to the frigate’s sheer, and, swung by the swirling tide,
Veered around, till her bowsprit ground on the Philadelphia’s side.
Then Stephen Decatur’s slender sword in the moonlight winked, as he thundered “Board!”
The hatches yawned on the ketch’s deck, and, quick as a man may turn,
Up from her hold, with a stirring shout, sixty American tars leapt out,
And mounted the frigate’s black redoubt like a wave that breaks astern!
And the startled night saw such a fight as none but the desperate make,
Blow on blow from foe to foe for the Philadelphia’s sake!
Cheer on cheer, as the end drew near, and a final charge, and then
The frigate lay in Tripoli Bay—an American ship again !
[...] Read more
poem by Guy Wetmore Carryl from The Garden of Years and Other Poems (1902)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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It's Summer and The People Choose to Feel Loose
Keep it up and finger poppin'.
Until the people say they've had quite enough.
Just keep it up and finger poppin'.
Turn the heat up and let them burn the rug.
Keep it up and finger poppin'.
Don't stop the beat,
When the feet cranks up the fever.
It's Summer and the people choose to feel loose.
With flavor tasted to shake loose a caboose.
And groping sweaty bodies with whomever they choose.
Keep it up and finger poppin'.
Until the people say they've had quite enough.
Just keep it up and finger poppin'.
It's Summer and the people choose to feel loose.
Keep it up and finger poppin'.
With flavor tasted to shake loose a caboose.
Keep it up and finger poppin'.
Don't stop the beat,
When the feet cranks up the fever.
Keep it up and finger poppin'.
Do not stop it when it's rockin'.
It's Summer and the people choose to feel loose.
With flavor tasted to shake loose a caboose.
And groping sweaty bodies with whomever they choose.
Keep it up and finger poppin'.
Keep it up and finger poppin'.
It's Summer and the people choose to feel loose.
Keep it up and finger poppin'.
Keep it up and finger poppin'.
It's Summer and the people choose to feel loose.
Keep it up and finger poppin'.
Keep it up and finger poppin'.
It's Summer and the people choose to feel loose.
Keep it up and finger poppin'.
Keep it up and finger poppin'.
It's Summer and the people choose to feel loose.
Keep it up and finger poppin'.
Do not stop it when it's rockin'.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Put The Finger On You
I put the finger on you
My hands all out of control
I cant stop it getting down on you
Its moving on its own accord
Yes, Ive got fire in my finger tips
Radiating onto you
I cant control it, cant even hold it
Its knocking on your door
And you know what its for
Chorus:
I put the finger right on you
I put the finger right on you
You put your finger on me too
Then I put the finger, I put the finger
Yeah I put the finger, I put the finger
I put the finger on you for sure
Its the key to unlocking your door, dont you know
Ive broken through your security
My hands aint tied no more, you better watch out
I cant control it, cant even hold it
Speaking up for pleasure
You can feel it on your ankle
Feel it on your knee
Feel it on your thigh
Can you feel me?
Chorus
I cant control it, cant even hold it
Sneaking up on your front door
You can feel it on your ankle
Feel it on your knee
Feel it on your thigh
Can you feel me?
Put it - right on you
Ill do it if you want me to
Can I put it?
I put the finger on you
I hit the spot
song performed by AC-DC
Added by Lucian Velea
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Love Is In Control
(finger on the trigger)
(Ive) hung around with big shots
Never knew love was in the sights
I guess I missed the target
Caught up in a different line of fire
But I know since Ive been aiming
For the sweetness in your soul
Your name is on the bullet
And its gettin ready to explode
Theres been a change inside my life
And I just wanna let you know
Ive got my finger on the trigger
Love is in control
Ive got my finger on the trigger
I aint lettin go
Bass line:
Baby, lets have some fun
A wont cha be my, my
Number one
Mama used to tell me
Girl, you better load your gun up right
She said ya, ya gotta come out smokin
Hit it with your best shot every time
Well I didnt understand her
til you walked right into range
I saw your love at twenty paces
And I new Id won the game
You better raise your heart up high
Or love will blow you right away
Ive got my finger on the trigger
Love is in control
Ive got my finger on the trigger
I aint lettin go
Ive got my finger on the trigger
Love is in control
Ive got my finger on the trigger
I aint lettin go
Leave off that safety catch
There aint no risk
Were gonna have some fun
Ive got cha, loves begun
So stay with me
Until the mornin sun
Youre superbullet number one
Bass line:
Baby, lets have some fun
A wont cha be my, my
Number one
Theres been a change inside
My life
[...] Read more
song performed by Donna Summer
Added by Lucian Velea
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One Heart Feels Finger
One heart feels finger tapping
deep spring of wisdom wide,
one heart feels finger mapping
bright spirit from inside,
One heart beat’s finger beckons
beyond both time and space,
one heart one finger reckons
calm, balm and saving grace.
One heart, one finger, giggle
together in traced hug,
each interlaced reach wriggle
as snug as bug in rug.
One heart with finger sharing
unbroken hopes and trust
one heart on finger wearing
fair token of shared lust.
One kiss surrounds a dimple,
one heals mind’s heart-ache scar
with touch profound as simple
to wish upon a star.
One circle, two shared pulses
grasp how, why, where, when, whence,
one quickens wave, impulses
romance, knows no expense.
One heart feels finger’s passion
trace out horizons blue,
new pastures green none ration
stretch out beyond all view
to marry in their fashion
life’s gleams and dreams come true
here joy, and there compassion,
unite in curlicue
where neither led nor leader
pollute the atmosphere,
where both are fed and feeder
in double helix sphere.
One rhythm understanding
the other’s inner beat
while no reply outstanding
is needed to complete
[...] Read more
poem by Jonathan Robin
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With My Finger Up And Raised
Tired of deceivers,
And the lies they leave...
Yes I am.
Yes I am.
Tired of the thieves,
And corruption of beliefs...
Yes I am.
Yes I am.
Tired of false faces that come.
Tired of those fixed smiles done.
Tired of the running by some...
Of those who say they care!
But not one woe I will do!
Tired of deceivers,
And the lies they leave...
Yes I am.
Yes I am.
Tired of the thieves,
And corruption of beliefs...
Yes I am.
Yes I am.
But not a single woe I will do.
And....
Not a woe I will do will prove...
With my finger up and raised!
Tired of the thieves,
And corruption of beliefs...
Yes I am.
Yes I am.
Tired of deceivers,
And the lies they leave...
Yes I am.
Yes I am.
But not a single woe I will do.
And....
Not a woe I will do will prove.
Or a showing I have had it,
With attitude.
And my finger up and raised!
But not a single woe I will do.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Cabin Tale
THE YOUNG MASTER ASKS FOR A STORY
Whut you say, dah? huh, uh! chile,
You 's enough to dribe me wile.
Want a sto'y; jes' hyeah dat!
Whah' 'll I git a sto'y at?
Di'n' I tell you th'ee las' night?
Go 'way, honey, you ain't right.
I got somep'n' else to do,
'Cides jes' tellin' tales to you.
Tell you jes' one? Lem me see
Whut dat one's a-gwine to be.
When you 's ole, yo membry fails;
Seems lak I do' know no tales.
Well, set down dah in dat cheer,
Keep still ef you wants to hyeah.
Tek dat chin up off yo' han's,
Set up nice now. Goodness lan's!
Hol' yo'se'f up lak yo' pa.
Bet nobidy evah saw
Him scrunched down lak you was den--
High-tone boys meks high-tone men.
Once dey was a ole black bah,
Used to live 'roun' hyeah some whah
In a cave. He was so big
He could ca'y off a pig
Lak you picks a chicken up,
Er yo' leetles' bit o' pup.
An' he had two gread big eyes,
Jes' erbout a saucer's size.
Why, dey looked lak balls o' fiah
Jumpin' 'roun' erpon a wiah
W'en dat bah was mad; an' laws!
But you ought to seen his paws!
Did I see 'em? How you 'spec
I 's a-gwine to ricollec'
Dis hyeah ya'n I 's try'n' to spin
Ef you keeps on puttin' in?
You keep still an' don't you cheep
Less I 'll sen' you off to sleep.
Dis hyeah bah 'd go trompin' 'roun'
Eatin' evahthing he foun';
No one could n't have a fa'm
But dat bah 'u'd do' em ha'm;
And dey could n't ketch de scamp.
Anywhah he wan'ed to tramp.
Dah de scoun'el 'd mek his track,
Do his du't an' come on back.
He was sich a sly ole limb,
[...] Read more
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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De Stove Pipe Hole
Dat's very cole an' stormy night on Village St. Mathieu,
W'en ev'ry wan he's go couché, an' dog was quiet, too--
Young Dominique is start heem out see Emmeline Gourdon,
Was leevin' on her fader's place, Maxime de Forgeron.
Poor Dominique he's lak dat girl, an' love her mos' de tam,
An' she was mak' de promise--sure--some day she be his famme,
But she have worse ole fader dat's never on de worl',
Was swear onless he's riche lak diable, no feller's get hees girl.
He's mak' it plaintee fuss about hees daughter Emmeline,
Dat's mebbe nice girl, too, but den, Mon Dieu, she's not de queen!
An' w'en de young man's come aroun' for spark it on de door,
An' hear de ole man swear 'Bapteme!' he's never come no more.
Young Dominique he's sam' de res',--was scare for ole Maxime,
He don't lak risk hese'f too moche for chances seein' heem,
Dat's only stormy night he come, so dark you cannot see,
An dat's de reason w'y also, he's climb de gallerie.
De girl she's waitin' dere for heem--don't care about de rain,
So glad for see young Dominique he's comin' back again,
Dey bote forget de ole Maxime, an' mak de embrasser
An affer dey was finish dat, poor Dominique is say--
'Good-bye, dear Emmeline, good-bye; I'm goin' very soon,
For you I got no better chance, dan feller on de moon--
It's all de fault your fader, too, dat I be go away,
He's got no use for me at all--I see dat ev'ry day.
'He's never meet me on de road but he is say 'Sapré!'
An' if he ketch me on de house I'm scare he's killin' me,
So I mus' lef' ole St. Mathieu, for work on 'noder place,
An' till I mak de beeg for-tune, you never see ma face.'
Den Emmeline say 'Dominique, ma love you'll alway be
An' if you kiss me two, t'ree tam I'll not tole noboddy--
But prenez garde ma fader, please, I know he's gettin ole--
All sam' he offen walk de house upon de stockin' sole.
'Good-bye, good-bye, cher Dominique! I know you will be true,
I don't want no riche feller me, ma heart she go wit' you.'
Dat's very quick he's kiss her den, before de fader come,
But don't get too moche pleasurement--so 'fraid de ole Bonhomme.
Wall! jus' about dey're half way t'roo wit all dat love beez-nesse
Emmeline say, 'Dominique, w'at for you're scare lak all de res?
Don't see mese'f moche danger now de ole man come aroun','
W'en minute affer dat, dere's noise, lak' house she's fallin' down.
[...] Read more
poem by William Henry Drummond
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Wrapped Around Your Finger
You consider me the young apprentice
Caught between the Scylla and Charibdes.
Hypnotized by you if I should linger
Staring at the ring around your finger.
I have only come here seeking knowledge,
Things they would not teach me of in college.
I cant see the best in me
That you saw
I'll be wrapped around your finger.
I'll be wrapped around your finger.
Mephistopheles is not your name,
But I know what you're up to just the same.
I will listen hard to your tuition,
And you will see it come to it's fruition.
I'll be wrapped around your finger.
I'll be wrapped around your finger.
Devil and the deep blue sea behind me
Vanish in the air you'll never find me.
I will turn your face to alabaster,
Then you'll find your servant is your master,
And you'll be wrapped around my finger.
I'll be wrapped around your finger.
You'll be wrapped around my finger.
I'll be wrapped around your finger
song performed by Underoath
Added by Lucian Velea
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Break Free! - Have a Ball!
Time to break free, one's cup of tea may not be to all taste,
past history's stale news, let be, haste, challenge chased, no waste!
Song bird of time migrates, sublime rewarding melody,
wide wings unfurl, from spiral twirl, soar to true rhapsody.
Time to escape, dropp nightshade drape, spring sprightly sings fresh air,
shed strings, red tape of every shape, fresh future fair prepare.
Shift key, click mouse, write waltz like Strauss, carouse in harmony,
drown frowns, don't grouse laze louse round house, spurn tale_spin gravity.
Discard hard times, from prose to rhymes switch life that pain shrugs off,
see light, delight quite free from fright, breathe out and fight rough cough!
Ignore moods poor, pain reign's downpour, sore thumb, fools dumb who bore,
far more expect, hope's scope elect, reject despond's dark core!
Time to rebound, life’s boat aground goodbye waves tidal waves,
from hurts that hound heart thought strung, bound, a clear approach now braves
life’s slings and arrows, narrow minds, discovers empathy,
that brings marshmallows, wide wings hallows, sheds self-sympathy.
From sleepy head, depressed in bed, leap up, cheered frame of mind,
misfortune's sped away, ahead, lies joy; leave lies behind.
Dread, pain vain bled, is shed instead success unbolts faults’ door,
so have a ball, reverse free fall, displace dark doubts with SURE!
Don't hedge your bets, glad sad regrets turns topsy-turvy soon,
don't sit on fence in self defence, self-confidence is boon.
Let inner fire inspire desire, suspicions set at rest,
all you require, adore, admire, won't cloy, - enjoy with zest.
From vain complain move on again, see sea’s brimfull of fish,
go take your pick as lips you lick so wickedly delish.
Look sharp! Don't carp, distress or mess up opportunities
chance offers all, go have a ball, refreshed prioritease!
If once distraught in heart or thought, trust must fuss dust displace,
move on to more - unseen before - let better bad replace.
From inner trial advance and smile, past tears, fears fast forgot,
prick cloudy pall, go have a ball and call each shot!
Hope's heart's at ease when spirit frees harp's soul from sharks, sharp spears,
DO as YOU please and by degrees all darkness disappears,
bread butters fly, sun spo[r]ts in sky, relearn to laugh a lot,
keep on the ball, leap each grey wall – bold, spurning blow cold, hot!
Link one to one, new tale begun, soon shadow shades dissolve,
don’t stumble, run! don’t cry, have fun! hands on luck’s clock revolve.
mosquito bite quite fly-by-night seems past controversy
compared to light solutions bright that crush adversity.
[...] Read more
poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Mouse Who Ate Louse
The rat who ate louse
was really funny
as he thought he was fast enough to race the bunny
he had a race with the bunny
and it was funny
that the bunny
raced him as ought to loose
so he said to the goose
oh no here I loose
its OK said the goose
but he said no I hadn't ought to loose
why said the goose
you ought to loose
so said the mouse
its OK I'll have a competition who eats more louse
with the bunny
ya said the funny bunny
lets do the competition
so won the mouse at eating louse! ! ! ! !
poem by Aryaman Ajit Naik
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The Idealist
Oh you who have daring deeds to tell!
And you who have felt Ambition's spell!
Have you heard of the louse who longed to dwell
In the golden hair of a queen?
He sighed all day and he sighed all night,
And no one could understand it quite,
For the head of a slut is a louse's delight,
But he pined for the head of a queen.
So he left his kinsfolk in merry play,
And off by his lonesome he stole away,
From the home of his youth so bright and gay,
And gloriously unclean.
And at last he came to the palace gate,
And he made his way in a manner straight
(For a louse may go where a man must wait)
To the tiring-room of the queen.
The queen she spake to her tiring-maid:
"There's something the matter, I'm afraid.
To-night ere for sleep my hair ye braid,
Just see what may be seen."
And lo, when they combed that shining hair
They found him alone in his glory there,
And he cried: "I die, but I do not care,
For I've lived in the head of a queen!"
poem by Robert William Service
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The King's Quire (excerpt)
...
Bewailing in my chamber thus allone,
Despeir{.e}d of all joye and remedye,
For-tirit of my thoght, and wo begone,
Unto the wyndow gan I walk in hye,
To se the warld and folk that went forby;
As for the tyme, though I of mirthis fude
Myght have no more, to luke it did me gude.
Now was there maid fast by the touris wall
A gardyn faire, and in the corneris set
Ane herbere grene:--with wandis long and small
Railit about; and so with treis set
Was all the place, and hawthorn hegis knet,
That lyf was none walking there forby,
That myght within scarse ony wight aspye;
So thik the bewis and the lev{.e}s grene
Beschadit all the aleyes that there were.
And myddis every herbere myght be sene
The scharp{.e} gren{.e} suet{.e} jenepere,
Growing so faire with branchis here and there,
That, as it semyt to a lyf without,
The bewis spred the herbere all about;
And on the small{.e} gren{.e} twistis sat
The lytill suet{.e} nyghtingale, and song
So loud and clere, the ympnis consecrat
Off lufis use, now soft, now lowd among,
That all the gardyng and the wallis rong
Ryght of thaire song and of the copill next
Off thaire suete armony, and lo the text:
CANTUS
"Worschippe, ye that loveris bene, this May,
For of your blisse the kalendis are begonne,
And sing with us, 'Away, winter, away!
Cum, somer, cum, the suete sesoun and sonne!'
Awake for schame! that have your hevynnis wonne,
And amorously lift up your hedis all,
Thank lufe that list you to his merci call."
Quhen thai this song had song a lytill thrawe,
Thai stent a quhile, and therewith unaffraid,
As I beheld and kest myn eyne a-lawe,
From beugh to beugh thay hippit and thai plaid,
And freschly in thaire birdis kynd arraid
Thaire fetheris new, and fret thame in the sonne,
And thankit lufe, that had thaire makis wonne.
[...] Read more
poem by James I of Scotland
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Wrapped around your finger
You consider me the young apprentice
Caught between the Scylla and Charibdes.
Hypnotized by you if I should linger
Starring at the ring around your finger
I have only come here seeking knowledge
Things they wouldn't teach me of in college
I can see the destiny you sold
Turn into a shining band of hope
I'll be wrapped around your finger
I'll be wrapped around your finger
Nafostaveles is not your name
But I know what you're up to just the same
I will listen hard to your tuition
You will see it come to it's fruition
I'll be wrapped around your finger
I'll be wrapped around your finger
Devil and the deep blue see behind me
Vanish in the air you'll never find me
I will turn you face to alabaster
Then you'll find you're servant is your master
You'll be wrapped around my finger
You'll be wrapped around my finger
You'll be wrapped around my finger
song performed by Green Lizard from Identity
Added by Lucian Velea
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I Am
Well fire it up
Chop one out
Somebody's got to know
That I'm two days in
I got two days left to go
Cause I am Georgia
I am Memphis Tennesee
I am everything
Hollywood wants to be
I am love and I am hate
I'm your late night drunk debate
But you'll never put
Your finger on me
Have you ever seen the sun
Over the rocky mountains shinin
Or touched the sands
Of a southern Florida beach
Have you seen a grown man cry
Or a child that's slowly dying
Have you looked inside
To see al that you can see
And I am North and South Dakota
And New York City
I am everything Hollywood wants
To be
I am love an I am hate
And all the critics can debate
But they will never put a finger
On me
No you'll never put a finger on
Have you seen the northern falls
Or the midwest seasons changing
A Montana storm
Or a warm Kentucky rain
Have you heard the love that sings
Over the inner city sidewalks
Have you risen above
All that leads to hate
And I am Boston and D.C.
And all of Detroit city
I am everything
That Hollywood wants to be
I am southern rock-n-roll
Country and hip hop soul
And you'll never put a finger on me
I'm a father and and I'm a friend
I'm your brother till the end
But you'll never put your finger on me
I am only God knows why
Ill be a cowboy till I die
[...] Read more
song performed by Kid Rock
Added by Lucian Velea
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Can't Put My Finger On It
Is it alive, does it writhe
Can it survive under the sun?
I can't put my finger on it.
Is it green, is it red
Is it alive or is it dead
I can't put my finger on it
Scathe with a lathe
All the days in the past
I can't put my finger on it
Is it brown, is it white
Is it really outta sight
I can't put my finger on it
Can it squeal, does it squirm
If it's fresh will it burn?
I can't put my finger on it
Can it fly, will it try
If the wings are still wet?
I can't put my finger on it
Can it heal, is it real
Can it feel the threads of time?
I can't put my finger on it
Does it glow, will it shine
Does it leave a trail of slime
I can't put my finger on it
Are you surprised when I touch the dwarf inside?
(Repeat three times)
(Repeat first verse
song performed by Ween
Added by Lucian Velea
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I Can't Put My Finger On It
[chanting]
Is it alive, does it writhe
Can it survive under the sun?
I can't put my finger on it
Is it green, is it red
Is it alive or is it dead
I can't put my finger on it
Scathe with a lathe
All the days in the past
I can't put my finger on it
Is it brown, is it white
Is it really outta sight
I can't put my finger on it
Do you know what i'm saying?
Do you know what i'm saying, people?
Can it squeal, does it squirm
If it's fresh will it burn?
I can't put my finger on it
Can it fly, will it try
If the wings are still wet?
I can't put my finger on it
Can it heal, is it real
Can it feel the threads of time?
I can't put my finger on it
Does it glow, will it shine
Does it leave a trail of slime
I can't put my finger on it
I tell you one time...
Are you surprised when i touch the dwarf inside?
(repeat three times)
(repeat first verse)
Ha ha ha...oh yeah, oh yeah!
song performed by Ween
Added by Lucian Velea
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Doc Sifers
Of all the doctors I could cite you to in this-'ere town
Doc Sifers is my favorite, jes' take him up and down!
Count in the Bethel Neighberhood, and Rollins, and Big Bear,
And Sifers' standin's jes' as good as ary doctor's there!
There's old Doc Wick, and Glenn, and Hall, and Wurgler, and McVeigh,
But I'll buck Sifers 'ginst 'em all and down 'em any day!
Most old Wick ever knowed, I s'pose, was _whisky!_ Wurgler--well,
He et morphine--ef actions shows, and facts' reliable!
But Sifers--though he ain't no sot, he's got his faults; and yit
When you _git_ Sifers one't, you've got _a doctor_, don't fergit!
He ain't much at his office, er his house, er anywhere
You'd natchurly think certain far to ketch the feller there.--
But don't blame Doc: he's got all sorts o' cur'ous notions--as
The feller says; his odd-come-shorts, like smart men mostly has.
He'll more'n like be potter'n 'round the Blacksmith Shop; er in
Some back lot, spadin' up the ground, er gradin' it agin.
Er at the workbench, planin' things; er buildin' little traps
To ketch birds; galvenizin' rings; er graftin' plums, perhaps.
Make anything! good as the best!--a gunstock--er a flute;
He whittled out a set o' chesstmen one't o' laurel root,
Durin' the Army--got his trade o' surgeon there--I own
To-day a finger-ring Doc made out of a Sesesh bone!
An' glued a fiddle one't far me--jes' all so busted you
'D a throwed the thing away, but he fixed her as good as new!
And take Doc, now, in _ager_, say, er _biles_, er _rheumatiz_,
And all afflictions thataway, and he's the best they is!
Er janders--milksick--I don't keer--k-yore anything he tries--
A abscess; getherin' in yer yeer; er granilated eyes!
There was the Widder Daubenspeck they all give up far dead;
A blame cowbuncle on her neck, and clean out of her head!
First had this doctor, what's-his-name, from 'Puddlesburg,' and then
This little red-head, 'Burnin' Shame' they call him--Dr. Glenn.
And they 'consulted' on the case, and claimed she'd haf to die,--
I jes' was joggin' by the place, and heerd her dorter cry,
And stops and calls her to the fence; and I-says-I, 'Let me
Send Sifers--bet you fifteen cents he'll k-yore her!' 'Well,' says
she,
'Light out!' she says: And, lipp-tee-cut! I loped in town, and rid
'Bout two hours more to find him, but I kussed him when I did!
He was down at the Gunsmith Shop a-stuffin' birds! Says he,
'My sulky's broke.' Says I, 'You hop right on and ride with me!'
[...] Read more
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Added by Poetry Lover
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Roll Over
You've gone the same
From day one
Don't think you'll ever change
I have to laugh
Every time you screw it up
Funny how I take the blame
Why is everything designed
To try and get a rise out of me?
Can't believe you never guessed
Only playing second best to ya
You oughta know I'm in control
I ain't gonna just roll over
You think that I'm here to please ya
But you don't even know, oh baby
I got you wrapped around my finger
You're so predictable
Don't open your mouth
Cos everyday you're outta here
So listen up
You think you're baby now
You know you never leave
'Cos I got you by the time
And it takes to realise the truth
I'm using you
And the more you think you won
The stronger I become
You wanna know, I'm in control
I ain't gonna just roll over
You think that I'm here to please ya
But you don't even know, oh baby
I got you wrapped around my finger
I ain't gonna just roll over (roll over)
You think that I'm here to please ya
But you don't even know, oh baby
I got you wrapped around my finger
Why is everything designed
To try and get a rise out of me
But the more you think you won
The stronger I become
You oughta know I'm in control
I got you wrapped around my finger
I got you wrapped around my finger
I ain't gonna just roll over
You think that I'm here to please ya
But you don't even know, oh baby
I got you wrapped around my finger
I ain't gonna just roll over
You think that I'm here to please ya
But you don't even know, oh baby
I got you wrapped around my finger
song performed by Holly Valance
Added by Lucian Velea
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