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To get the lid on the nose.

Dutch proverbs
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Prince Dorus

In days of yore, as Ancient Stories tell,
A King in love with a great Princess fell.
Long at her feet submiss the Monarch sigh'd,
While she with stern repulse his suit denied.
Yet was he form'd by birth to please the fair,
Dress'd, danc'd, and courted, with a Monarch's air;
But Magic Spells her frozen breast had steel'd
With stubborn pride, that knew not how to yield.

This to the King a courteous Fairy told,
And bade the Monarch in his suit be bold;
For he that would the charming Princess wed,
Had only on her cat's black tail to tread,
When straight the Spell would vanish into air,
And he enjoy for life the yielding fair.

He thank'd the Fairy for her kind advice.-
Thought he, 'If this be all, I'll not be nice;
Rather than in my courtship I will fail,
I will to mince-meat tread Minon's black tail.'

To the Princess's court repairing strait,
He sought the cat that must decide his fate;
But when he found her, how the creature stared!
How her back bristled, and her great eyes glared!
That tail, which he so fondly hop'd his prize,
Was swell'd by wrath to twice its usual size;
And all her cattish gestures plainly spoke,
She thought the affair he came upon, no joke.

With wary step the cautious King draws near,
And slyly means to attack her in her rear;
But when he thinks upon her tail to pounce,
Whisk-off she skips-three yards upon a bounce-
Again he tries, again his efforts fail-
Minon's a witch-the deuce is in her tail.-

The anxious chase for weeks the Monarch tried,
Till courage fail'd, and hope within him died.
A desperate suit 'twas useless to prefer,
Or hope to catch a tail of quicksilver.-
When on a day, beyond his hopes, he found
Minon, his foe, asleep upon the ground;
Her ample tail hehind her lay outspread,
Full to the eye, and tempting to the tread.

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Lamb
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Finding Oneself......... [EXTREMELY LONG; Growing Up; Relationships; Humor

Part One

When Bri was 13 and in grade 8,
he noticed classmates beginning to date.
At school (other) boys got their way with the girls with a kiss.
But Bri didn't have the urge; he thought 'what's this? '
He decided he should give it a try,
but each time he tried, the girl would cry.
Not only would she cry; she would run away and hide.
Bri felt between himself and the other boys a great divide.

Back home after school he'd seclude himself in his room and cry.
Through his mind was repeated the question 'why? ' 'Why DO they cry? Why? '

Bri was a straight A+ student with no flubs.
He played football but (except for 'Cooking') he joined not clubs.

After a few months Bri gave up (on girls) . He had NO close friends to set him right;
his parents should have known the problem, but they weren't bright.

In high school he took AP courses, and took 3 courses at a nearby college.
He ignored girls and sports and concentrated on gaining knowledge.

He got a full scholarship to Harvard, but his advisor looked at him funny.
By age 26 he had his PhD in psychology and started making money.
But he still asked 'why? '
It still bothered him and at times he'd cry.

Then waking up one day from a dream, Bri suddenly asked himself 'were they shy?
And if so, why with ME and not the other boys? Why DID they cry? '
The answer could be that his brain and looks were superior.
Were those girls only uncomfortable with boys that were inferior (to him) ?
If that really was the answer, he could now save face,
and could pursue women with HIS high level of brains, looks, and grace.
(But WAS it the answer? He was still not SURE why they did cry.)
For now he would work hard, avoid girls, and try to keep his eyes dry.
In two more years would be a second high school reunion. Thoughts of attending gave Bri a fright. (He'd skipped the first,5 year, reunion.)
But by going this time he might find out if his answer to his 'why? ' was right.

PART TWO

For two more years he waited anxiously for invitation he was dreading.
At times he'd awaken at night from a 'reunion dream', profusely sweating.
Finally it arrived in mail; it would be in June, before it got TOO warm.
He kept his calendar free for the whole month, doubting, at work, he could perform.
He got out the yearbooks his Mom had bought, and he studied each girl's name.
Would he have the nerve to ask them 'why? ' ….OR would he be too scared and lame?

He lived on sedatives for a week. He picked his favorite tie, and a light grey business suit.
Would he find out if the girls had just been shy, or would they give him 'the boot'?

[...] Read more

poem by Bri Edwards
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Take The Lid Off The Pot

Just take the lid off the pot
Savor all the flavor
Take the lid off the pot
Savor all the flavor
Take the lid off the pot
And savor all the flavor
That's inside of the pot
To then taste what that pot has got

It's been long in simming
With select ingredients
Mouths drool and this is seen
With a stirring up the scent
Eyes are watering with dreams
Now's the time to dip in and get eating
To stop the teasing that was meant

Take the lid off the pot
Savor all the flavor
Take the lid off the pot
Savor all the flavor
Take the lid off the pot
And savor all the flavor
That's inside of the pot.
To then taste what that pot has got

Delicious is the stew
To satisfy those licking lips
Deliciously it soothes
For those who sit and wish
With a wanting more of it!

Just take that lid off the pot
To savor all the flavor
Take the lid off the pot
Savor all the flavor
Take that lid off the pot
And savor all the flavor
That's inside of the pot
To then taste what that pot has got.

'What's the matter? '

There's none left!

'What are you saying?
What do you mean? '

It's gone
All of it

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Danger Zone

New York is a real cool town
society really brings me down
our playground is a pharmacy
kids find trouble so easily

other countries are just as bad
the Soviets really make me mad
on the boulevard where the police hide
let's steal a car for a joyride

they say you're just an awkward kid
you flipped your lid you flipped your lid
you love wine like they love cash
feel your rage spread like a rash

you flipped your lid you flipped your lid
you flipped your lid you flipped your lid
they say you're just an awkward kid
you flipped your lid you flipped your lid

all alone in the danger zone
danger zone danger zone
all alone in the danger zone
danger zone danger zone

song performed by Ramones from Too Tough To Die
Added by Lucian Velea
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Nose

No one cares for the nose

To go nose straight is the tao

If there were no eyes

You could see better with your nose

If there were no nose

you wouldnot distinguish the sweet from the bitter

And there would be no value judgements in the world

And it is the nose that keeps you hot in the cold

And that keeps you cold in Jakodabad

The nose is the vigilant customs officer

That does not allow any drug to your lungs

And the nose cannot be bribed

Oh Nose! the customs officer of the body

And the pivot of value judgement in the world

If that name thou love

Remain with us and teach the noseless world

That it must have a nose in this wartorn world

He who knows the greatness of nose

Surely goes to the realm of rose

In the life to come

Hurrah Let us compose hymns to nose

poem by Dr. Ramesh Chandra Mukhopadhyaya
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In The Garret

Four little chests all in a row,
Dim with dust, and worn by time,
All fashioned and filled, long ago,
By children now in their prime.
Four little keys hung side by side,
With faded ribbons, brave and gay
When fastened there, with childish pride,
Long ago, on a rainy day.
Four little names, one on each lid,
Carved out by a boyish hand,
And underneath there lieth hid
Histories of the happy band
Once playing here, and pausing oft
To hear the sweet refrain,
That came and went on the roof aloft,
In the falling summer rain.

'Meg' on the first lid, smooth and fair.
I look in with loving eyes,
For folded here, with well-known care,
A goodly gathering lies,
The record of a peaceful life--
Gifts to gentle child and girl,
A bridal gown, lines to a wife,
A tiny shoe, a baby curl.
No toys in this first chest remain,
For all are carried away,
In their old age, to join again
In another small Meg's play.
Ah, happy mother! Well I know
You hear, like a sweet refrain,
Lullabies ever soft and low
In the falling summer rain.

'Jo' on the next lid, scratched and worn,
And within a motley store
Of headless dolls, of schoolbooks torn,
Birds and beasts that speak no more,
Spoils brought home from the fairy ground
Only trod by youthful feet,
Dreams of a future never found,
Memories of a past still sweet,
Half-writ poems, stories wild,
April letters, warm and cold,
Diaries of a wilful child,
Hints of a woman early old,
A woman in a lonely home,
Hearing, like a sad refrain--
'Be worthy, love, and love will come,'
In the falling summer rain.

[...] Read more

poem by Louisa May Alcott
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You Can't Can Love

I don't know how the fishes feel, but I can't help thinking it odd,
That a gay young flapper of a female eel should fall in love with a cod.
Yet - that's exactly what she did and it only goes to prove,
That' what evr you do you can't put the lid on that crazy feeling Love.

Now that young tom-cod was a dreadful rake, and he had no wish to wed,
But he feared that her foolish heart would break, so this is what he said:
"Some fellows prize a woman's eyes, and some admire her lips,
While some have a taste for a tiny waist, but - me, what I like is HIPS."

"So you see, my dear," said that gay tom-cod, "Exactly how I feel;
Oh I hate to be unkind but I know my mind, and there ain't no hips on an eel."
"Alas! that's true," said the foolish fish, as she blushed to her finny tips:
"And with might and main, though it gives me pain, I'll try to develop hips."

So day and night with all her might she physical culturized;
But alas and alack, in the middle of her back no hump she recognized.
So - then she knew that her love eclipse was fated from the start;
For you never yet saw an eel with hips, so she died of a broken heart.

Chorus:
Oh you've gotta hand it out to Love, to Love you can't can Love
You'll find it from the bottom of the briny deep to the blue above.
From the Belgin hare to the Polar Bear, and the turtle dove,
You can look where you please, But from elephant to fleas,
You'll never put the lid on Love.

You can look where you choose, But from crabs to kangaroos,
You'll never put the lid on Love.

You can look where you like, But from polywogs to pike,
You'll never put the lid on Love.

You can look where you please, But from buffalo to bees,
You'll never put the lid on Love.

poem by Robert William Service
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VIII. Dominus Hyacinthus de Archangelis, Pauperum Procurator

Ah, my Giacinto, he's no ruddy rogue,
Is not Cinone? What, to-day we're eight?
Seven and one's eight, I hope, old curly-pate!
—Branches me out his verb-tree on the slate,
Amo-as-avi-atum-are-ans,
Up to -aturus, person, tense, and mood,
Quies me cum subjunctivo (I could cry)
And chews Corderius with his morning crust!
Look eight years onward, and he's perched, he's perched
Dapper and deft on stool beside this chair,
Cinozzo, Cinoncello, who but he?
—Trying his milk-teeth on some crusty case
Like this, papa shall triturate full soon
To smooth Papinianian pulp!

It trots
Already through my head, though noon be now,
Does supper-time and what belongs to eve.
Dispose, O Don, o' the day, first work then play!
—The proverb bids. And "then" means, won't we hold
Our little yearly lovesome frolic feast,
Cinuolo's birth-night, Cinicello's own,
That makes gruff January grin perforce!
For too contagious grows the mirth, the warmth
Escaping from so many hearts at once—
When the good wife, buxom and bonny yet,
Jokes the hale grandsire,—such are just the sort
To go off suddenly,—he who hides the key
O' the box beneath his pillow every night,—
Which box may hold a parchment (someone thinks)
Will show a scribbled something like a name
"Cinino, Ciniccino," near the end,
"To whom I give and I bequeath my lands,
"Estates, tenements, hereditaments,
"When I decease as honest grandsire ought."
Wherefore—yet this one time again perhaps—
Shan't my Orvieto fuddle his old nose!
Then, uncles, one or the other, well i' the world,
May—drop in, merely?—trudge through rain and wind,
Rather! The smell-feasts rouse them at the hint
There's cookery in a certain dwelling-place!
Gossips, too, each with keepsake in his poke,
Will pick the way, thrid lane by lantern-light,
And so find door, put galligaskin off
At entry of a decent domicile
Cornered in snug Condotti,—all for love,
All to crush cup with Cinucciatolo!

Well,
Let others climb the heights o' the court, the camp!

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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O! What a nose!

People talk about a running nose
I'm talking about a long facial cargo
She’s got a nose longer than my longest toes
With a mission of being nosy as time goes

Please don’t get close
When she discloses
Her loud snoring doze
Don’t be like the heroes

Goodness gracious
O! What a nose!
Goodness gracious
What a precious nose pose!

Painted as red as a romantic rose
Standing long like my garden pipe hose
And as she sniffs, sneezes and exposes
I cannot help thinking of Pinocchio’s nose

Goodness gracious
O! What a nose!
Goodness gracious
Red and long when it snows

And this nose is nosy
She can smell a rat, cat or a bat
When you are getting cozy
In your one bedroom flat

O! What a nose!
In and out juice flows
And when she smells the air
They all cannot help but stare

Copyright 2008 - Sylvia Chidi

poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Dawgs of War

Comes the British bulldog first—solid as a log—
He’s so ugly in repose that he’s a handsome dog;
Full of mild benevolence as his years increase;
Silent as a china dog on the mantelpiece.
Rub his sides and point his nose,
Click your tongue and in he goes,
To the thick of Britain’s foes—
Enemies behind him close—
(
Silence for a while
).

Comes a very different dog—tell him at a glance.
Clipped and trimmed and frilled all round. Dandy dog of France.
(Always was a dandy dog, no matter what his age)
Now his every hair and frill is stiff as wire with rage.
Rub his sides and point his nose,
Click your tongue and in he goes,
While behind him France’s foes
Reel and surge and pack and close.
(
Silence for a while
.)

Next comes Belgium’s market dog—hard to realise.
Go-cart dog and barrow dog—he’s a great surprise.
Dog that never hurt a cat, did no person harm;
Friendly, kindly, round and fat as a “Johnny Darm.”
Rub his sides and point his nose,
Click your tongue and in he goes,
At the flank of Belgium’s foes
Who could not behind him close—
(
Silence for a while
).

Next comes Servia’s mongrel pup—mongrel dawgs can fight;
Up or down, or down or up, whether wrong or right.
He was mad the other day—he is mad today,
Hustling round and raising dust in his backyard way.
Rub his sides and point his nose,
Click your tongue and in he goes,
’Twixt the legs of Servia’s foes,
Biting tails and rearmost toes—
(
Silence for a while
.)

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Lawson
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Report Of An Adjudged Case

Between Nose and Eyes a strange contest arose,
The spectacles set them unhappily wrong;
The point in dispute was, as all the world knows,
To which the said spectacles ought to belong.

So the Tongue was the Lawyer and argued the cause
With a great deal of skill, and a wig full of learning,
While chief baron Ear sat to balance the laws,
So famed for his talent in nicely discerning.

In behalf of the Nose, it will quickly appear,
And your lordship, he said, will undoubtedly find,
That the Nose has had spectacles always in wear,
Which amounts to possession time out of mind.

Then holding the spectacles up to the court, -
Your lordship observes they are made with a straddle,
As wide as the ridge of the Nose is, in short,
Designed to sit close to it, just like a saddle.

Again, would your lordship a moment suppose
('Tis a case that has happened and may be again),
That the visage or countenance had not a Nose,
Pray who would or who could wear spectacles then?

On the whole it appears, and my argument shows
With a reasoning the court will never condemn,
That the spectacles plainly were made for the Nose,
And the Nose was as plainly intended for them.

Then shifting his side, as a lawyer knows how,
He pleaded again in behalf of the Eyes,
But what were his arguments few people know,
For the court did not think they were equally wise.

So his lordship decreed, with a grave solemn tone,
Decisive and clear, without on if or but, -
That whenever the Nose put his spectacles on,
By daylight or candlelight - Eyes should be shut.

poem by William Cowper
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Shortenin Bread

Mamas little baby loves shortenin shortenin
Mamas little baby loves shortenin bread
Mamas little baby loves shortenin shortenin
Mamas little baby loves shortenin bread
Put on the skillet
Slip on the lid
Mammys gonna make us some shortenin bread
And that aint all
Our mammys gonna do
Shes gonna cook us some coffee, too
Mamas little baby loves shortenin shortenin
Mamas little baby loves shortenin bread
Mamas little baby loves shortenin shortenin
Mamas little baby loves shortenin bread
Mamas little baby loves shortenin shortenin
Mamas little baby loves shortenin bread
I slipped in the kitchen
Raised up the lid
I stole me a mess o that shortenin bread
I walked up to a pretty girl and I said
Baby howd you like some shortenin bread
Mamas little baby loves shortenin shortenin
Mamas little baby loves shortenin bread
Mamas little baby loves shortenin shortenin
Mamas little baby loves shortenin bread
They caught me with the skillet
They caught me with the lid
They caught me with the girl eatin shortenin bread
Six months for the skillet
Six months for the lid
Now Im doin time for eatin shortenin bread
Mamas little baby loves shortenin shortenin
Mamas little baby loves shortenin bread
Mamas little baby loves shortenin shortenin
Mamas little baby loves shortenin bread
Shortenin
Shortenin bread
Shortenin
Shortenin bread
Mamas little baby loves shortenin shortenin
Mamas little baby loves shortenin bread
Mamas little baby loves shortenin shortenin
Mamas little baby loves shortenin bread

song performed by Beach Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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Lincoln County

Ive gotta get a train, take me back home again,
See my daddy, momma wants to see me too.
Im gonna see my momma looking through the window
At the station in the morning, been a few mornings since Ive been home.
Ive been doing wrong but now Im going home.
So come on girls, you better put your best boots on.
cause when I get home to lincoln county,
Wont know which way to go, Im gonna find all those pretty girls.
Im gonna find them all.
cause when I get home to lincoln county,
Gonna lift the lid off hell, drink some beer, Im gonna live it swell[? ].
Then Im gonna shout for more.
Well, I bought a new suit at the best pawn brokers shop,
Bought my ticket from money that I saved in jail.
I got a boot lace tie, I got for my pa,
I got a head scarf, fair, I got for my momma that she wont wear.
Ive been doing wrong but now Im going home.
So come on girls, you better put your best boots on.
cause when I get home to lincoln county,
Wont know which way to go, Im gonna find all those pretty girls.
Im gonna find them all.
cause when I get home to lincoln county,
Gonna lift the lid off hell, drink some beer, Im gonna live it swell[? ].
Then Im gonna shout for more.
Ive gotta get a train, take me back home again,
See my daddy, momma wants to see me too.
cause when I get me back to lincoln county,
Gonna lift the lid off hell, drink some beer, Im gonna live it swell[? ].
Then Im gonna shout for more.
cause when I get back to lincoln county,
Gonna lift the lid off hell, drink some beer, Im gonna live it swell[? ].
Then Im gonna shout for more.
cause when I get home to lincoln county,
Wont know which way to go, Im gonna find all those pretty girls.
Im gonna find them all.

song performed by Kinks
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Lift The Lid

Nazareth
Here I am, sitting on my porch
Thinkin my life has got to be beyond reproach
Have I forgot some friends close to me
Real ones that dont use me
And does my woman love me now
Like she loved me then
Here I am,my defenses are down
Will she remember me when Im not around
Will she still dream by me
Or will she find a new life
Will I ever get used, to being alone at night
Ill never know, but would it do me any good if I did
Life is a strange brew, maybe we should not lift the lid
Lift the lid
Ill never know, but would it do me any good if I did
Life is a strange brew, maybe we should not lift the lid
Lift the lid
(words and music by nazareth)
Copyright 1975 jenevieve music (bmi)

song performed by Nazareth
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The Undying One- Canto III

'THERE is a sound the autumn wind doth make
Howling and moaning, listlessly and low:
Methinks that to a heart that ought to break
All the earth's voices seem to murmur so.
The visions that crost
Our path in light--
The things that we lost
In the dim dark night--
The faces for which we vainly yearn--
The voices whose tones will not return--
That low sad wailing breeze doth bring
Borne on its swift and rushing wing.
Have ye sat alone when that wind was loud,
And the moon shone dim from the wintry cloud?
When the fire was quench'd on your lonely hearth,
And the voices were still which spoke of mirth?

If such an evening, tho' but one,
It hath been yours to spend alone--
Never,--though years may roll along
Cheer'd by the merry dance and song;
Though you mark'd not that bleak wind's sound before,
When louder perchance it used to roar--
Never shall sound of that wintry gale
Be aught to you but a voice of wail!
So o'er the careless heart and eye
The storms of the world go sweeping by;
But oh! when once we have learn'd to weep,
Well doth sorrow his stern watch keep.
Let one of our airy joys decay--
Let one of our blossoms fade away--
And all the griefs that others share
Seem ours, as well as theirs, to bear:
And the sound of wail, like that rushing wind
Shall bring all our own deep woe to mind!

'I went through the world, but I paused not now
At the gladsome heart and the joyous brow:
I went through the world, and I stay'd to mark
Where the heart was sore, and the spirit dark:
And the grief of others, though sad to see,
Was fraught with a demon's joy to me!

'I saw the inconstant lover come to take
Farewell of her he loved in better days,
And, coldly careless, watch the heart-strings break--
Which beat so fondly at his words of praise.
She was a faded, painted, guilt-bow'd thing,
Seeking to mock the hues of early spring,
When misery and years had done their worst

[...] Read more

poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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The Masque Of Pandora

THE WORKSHOP OF HEPHAESTUS

HEPHAESTUS (standing before the statue of Pandora.)
Not fashioned out of gold, like Hera's throne,
Nor forged of iron like the thunderbolts
Of Zeus omnipotent, or other works
Wrought by my hands at Lemnos or Olympus,
But moulded in soft clay, that unresisting
Yields itself to the touch, this lovely form
Before me stands, perfect in every part.
Not Aphrodite's self appeared more fair,
When first upwafted by caressing winds
She came to high Olympus, and the gods
Paid homage to her beauty. Thus her hair
Was cinctured; thus her floating drapery
Was like a cloud about her, and her face
Was radiant with the sunshine and the sea.

THE VOICE OF ZEUS.
Is thy work done, Hephaestus?

HEPHAESTUS.
It is finished!

THE VOICE.
Not finished till I breathe the breath of life
Into her nostrils, and she moves and speaks.

HEPHAESTUS.
Will she become immortal like ourselves?

THE VOICE.
The form that thou hast fashioned out of clay
Is of the earth and mortal; but the spirit,
The life, the exhalation of my breath,
Is of diviner essence and immortal.
The gods shall shower on her their benefactions,
She shall possess all gifts: the gift of song,
The gift of eloquence, the gift of beauty,
The fascination and the nameless charm
That shall lead all men captive.

HEPHAESTUS.
Wherefore? wherefore?

(A wind shakes the house.)

I hear the rushing of a mighty wind
Through all the halls and chambers of my house!
Her parted lips inhale it, and her bosom

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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I Have Finally Come To Realize

I have finally come to realise
Child dont do what I have done
Cut my nose to spite my face
Made my own odds 10,000 to one
I saw the empire slowly fade away
Tried to grasp it with my hand
Then I saw that it was not up to me
Im just one tiny, tiny grain of sand
Oh, sweet release, oh how you soothe me
When I let go, I love how you use me
I have finally come to realise
Its something theyre doing that theyre doing that we find
A certain way that we can live our lives
And Im takin some peace of mind
Oh, sweet release, oh how you soothe me
And when I let go, and when I let go
I love how you use me
I have finally come to realise
Its something theyre doing that theyre doing that we find
A certain way that we can live our lives
And Im takin some peace of mind
I have finally come to realise, yes I have
Child dont do, child dont do what I have done
I cut my nose, I cut my nose to spite my face
I made my own odds 10,000 to one
I cut my nose to spite my face
I made my own odds 10,000 to one
One more time
I cut my nose, I cut my nose
I cut my nose to spite my face
I made my own odds 10,000 to one

song performed by Van Morrison
Added by Lucian Velea
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Be Glad Your Nose is on Your Face

Be glad your nose is on your face,
not pasted on some other place,
for if it were where it is not,
you might dislike your nose a lot.

Imagine if your precious nose
were sandwiched in between your toes,
that clearly would not be a treat,
for you'd be forced to smell your feet.

Your nose would be a source of dread
were it attached atop your head,
it soon would drive you to despair,
forever tickled by your hair.

Within your ear, your nose would be
an absolute catastrophe,
for when you were obliged to sneeze,
your brain would rattle from the breeze.

Your nose, instead, through thick and thin,
remains between your eyes and chin,
not pasted on some other place--
be glad your nose is on your face!

poem by Jack Prelutsky
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The Dong with a Luminous Nose

When awful darkness and silence reign
Over the great Gromboolian plain,
Through the long, long wintry nights; --
When the angry breakers roar
As they beat on the rocky shore; --
When Storm-clouds brood on the towering heights
Of the Hills of the Chankly Bore: --

Then, through the vast and gloomy dark,
There moves what seems a fiery spark,
A lonely spark with silvery rays
Piercing the coal-black night, --
A Meteor strange and bright: --
Hither and thither the vision strays,
A single lurid light.

Slowly it wander, -- pauses, -- creeps, --
Anon it sparkles, -- flashes and leaps;
And ever as onward it gleaming goes
A light on the Bong-tree stems it throws.
And those who watch at that midnight hour
From Hall or Terrace, or lofty Tower,
Cry, as the wild light passes along, --
"The Dong! -- the Dong!
"The wandering Dong through the forest goes!
"The Dong! the Dong!
"The Dong with a luminous Nose!"

Long years ago
The Dong was happy and gay,
Till he fell in love with a Jumbly Girl
Who came to those shores one day.
For the Jumblies came in a sieve, they did, --
Landing at eve near the Zemmery Fidd
Where the Oblong Oysters grow,
And the rocks are smooth and gray.
And all the woods and the valleys rang
With the Chorus they daily and nightly sang, --
"Far and few, far and few,
Are the lands where the Jumblies live;
Their heads are green, and the hands are blue
And they went to sea in a sieve.

Happily, happily passed those days!
While the cheerful Jumblies staid;
They danced in circlets all night long,
To the plaintive pipe of the lively Dong,
In moonlight, shine, or shade.
For day and night he was always there
By the side of the Jumbly Girl so fair,

[...] Read more

poem by Edward Lear
Added by Poetry Lover
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Gotta Bad Nose Job

Bah bah bah babbay,
You brought the Moon.
Bah,
Babbay...
You brought the Stars.
Bah,
Babbay...
You brought the Sun,
Right into my heart!

Bah,
Babbay...
And when I sleep.
Bah,
Babbay...
My dreams get to leaping.
Bah,
Babbay...
And you know...
I am up to pace the floor.

'Cause I know,
You know...
I gotta bad nose job!

Bah
Bababy...
You brought the Stars.
Bah,
Babbay...
You brought the Sun,
Right into my heart!
And you know...
I know,
I gotta bad nose job!

Bah bah bah babbay,
You brought the Moon.
Bah,
Babbay...
You brought the Stars.
Bah,
Babbay...
You brought the Sun,
Right into my heart!
And you know...
I know you know,
I gotta bad nose job!

Yes I know you know...

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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