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When I was about 5 I think, I desperately wanted to be a pirate and have the hat and everything.

quote by Keira Knightley
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The Princess Betrothed To The King Of Garba

WHAT various ways in which a thing is told
Some truth abuse, while others fiction hold;
In stories we invention may admit;
But diff'rent 'tis with what historick writ;
Posterity demands that truth should then
Inspire relation, and direct the pen.

ALACIEL'S story's of another kind,
And I've a little altered it, you'll find;
Faults some may see, and others disbelieve;
'Tis all the same:--'twill never make me grieve;
Alaciel's mem'ry, it is very clear,
Can scarcely by it lose; there's naught to fear.
Two facts important I have kept in view,
In which the author fully I pursue;
The one--no less than eight the belle possessed,
Before a husband's sight her eyes had blessed;
The other is, the prince she was to wed
Ne'er seemed to heed this trespass on his bed,
But thought, perhaps, the beauty she had got
Would prove to any one a happy lot.

HOWE'ER this fair, amid adventures dire,
More sufferings shared than malice could desire;
Though eight times, doubtless, she exchanged her knight
No proof, that she her spouse was led to slight;
'Twas gratitude, compassion, or good will;
The dread of worse;--she'd truly had her fill;
Excuses just, to vindicate her fame,
Who, spite of troubles, fanned the monarch's flame:
Of eight the relict, still a maid received ;--
Apparently, the prince her pure believed;
For, though at times we may be duped in this,
Yet, after such a number--strange to miss!
And I submit to those who've passed the scene,
If they, to my opinion, do not lean.

THE king of Alexandria, Zarus named,
A daughter had, who all his fondness claimed,
A star divine Alaciel shone around,
The charms of beauty's queen were in her found;
With soul celestial, gracious, good, and kind,
And all-accomplished, all-complying mind.

THE, rumour of her worth spread far and wide,
The king of Garba asked her for his bride,
And Mamolin (the sov'reign of the spot,)
To other princes had a pref'rence got.

THE fair, howe'er, already felt the smart

[...] Read more

poem by La Fontaine
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The Old Man's Calendar

OFT have I seen in wedlock with surprise,
That most forgot from which true bliss would rise
When marriage for a daughter is designed,
The parents solely riches seem to mind;
All other boons are left to heav'n above,
And sweet SIXTEEN must SIXTY learn to love!
Yet still in other things they nicer seem,
Their chariot-horses and their oxen-team
Are truly matched;--in height exact are these,
While those each shade alike must have to please;
Without the choice 'twere wonderful to find,
Or coach or wagon travel to their mind.
The marriage journey full of cares appears,
When couples match in neither souls nor years!
An instance of the kind I'll now detail:
The feeling bosom will such lots bewail!

QUINZICA, (Richard), as the story goes,
Indulged his wife at balls, and feasts, and shows,
Expecting other duties she'd forget,
In which howe'er he disappointment met.
A judge in Pisa, Richard was, it seems,
In law most learned: wily in his schemes;
But silver beard and locks too clearly told,
He ought to have a wife of diff'rent mould;
Though he had taken one of noble birth,
Quite young, most beautiful, and formed for mirth,
Bartholomea Galandi her name;
The lady's parents were of rank and fame;
Our JUDGE herein had little wisdom shown,
And sneering friends around were often known
To say, his children ne'er could fathers lack:
At giving counsel some have got a knack,
Who, were they but at home to turn their eyes,
Might find, perhaps, they're not so over-wise.

QUINZICA, then perceiving that his pow'rs
Fell short of what a bird like his devours,
T'excuse himself and satisfy his dear,
Pretended that, no day within the year,
To Hymen, as a saint, was e'er assigned,
In calendar, or book of any kind,
When full ATTENTION to the god was paid:--
To aged sires a nice convenient aid;
But this the sex by no means fancy right;
Few days to PLEASURE could his heart invite
At times, the week entire he'd have a fast;
At others, say the day 'mong saints was classed,
Though no one ever heard its holy name;--
FAST ev'ry Friday--Saturday the same,

[...] Read more

poem by La Fontaine
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Desparately

Every night its the same
I hear you callin my name
Youre lyin next to me
I give into your charms
You disappear in my arms
I realize its just a dream, but
Desperately I long to feel your touch
But you left me all alone in love
And now I
Shake the sleep from my head
And try to crawl out of bed
Today is just another day
I make the coffee for one
I turn the radio on
Pretend that everythings ok, but
Desperately I long to feel your touch
But you left me all alone in love
And now I
Know theres no reason to smile
Its gonna take me awhile
Cause I still love you desperately
Desperately I long to feel your touch
But you left me all alone in love
And now I
Watch the sun goin down
There aint nobody around
I feel a night in the breeze
I keep on tellin myself
I dont need nobody else
And I can do as I please, but
Desperately I long to feel your touch
But you left me all alone in love
And now I
Desperately I long to feel your touch
But you left me all alone in love
And now
Every night its the same
I hear you callin my name
I still love you desperately
I still love you
I still want you
I still love you desperately

song performed by George Strait
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Make This House A Home

Well theres something in us living
Theres something you should know
There was a time for us to fall
Now its time to grow
But you know its not the way
That I intended it to be
Crossing hearts and killing souls
And trying to get down to whats real
All I ever wanted was to make this house a home
I let go of sinking sand wont you help me find a stone
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
Was to make this house a home
All I needed was your hand to hold
I spent so much time alone
I needed your direction
But we re-aligned my broken bones
Well theyre running from a lifeless state
Somehow we lost our hold
All we have with us is change
Left over from what started out as gold
All I ever wanted was to make this house a home
I let go of sinking sand - wont you help me find a stone
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
Was to make this house a home
This is what I give to you
Its flesh and blood
Its body and soul
Wont you take whats left of who I am
And try to see it whole
Im holding you responsible for every word I say
If you feel the brokenness
Wont you try and look the other way
I never meant to be so low
I only wanted you to see
That time was healing someone else
But its tearing apart the very heart of me
This is what I give to you
Its flesh and blood
Its body and soul
Wont you take whats left of who I am
And try to see it whole
All I ever wanted was to make this house a home

[...] Read more

song performed by Indigo Girls
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Having Fun

When the clouds in the cosmos wanted to have some fun;
they clashed playfully against each other; fomenting
heavenly droplets of liquid to tumble down in
rhapsodic frenzy,

When the waves in the undulating ocean wanted to have
some fun; they rose and fell merrily with the
exuberant breeze; culminating into a festoon of
magnificently sparkling froth as they dissipated on
the silver sands,

When the battalion of boisterous frogs wanted to have
some fun; they bounced and frisked ebulliently after
midnight; inundating the perpetually still atmosphere
with their brazenly croaking voice,

When the solitary palms wanted to have some fun; they
embedded themselves to unprecedented limits beneath
majestic soil; thunderously clapped thereafter; to
sprinkle the granules in unanimous tandem,

When the fleet of fountain pens wanted to have some
fun; they sketched overwhelmingly funny contours of
their masters; emptying the blotted ink wholesomely on
his tyrannically wretched face,

When the bells in the dilapidated castle wanted to
have some fun; they commenced to nostalgically
reverberate; drowning in sheer ecstasy of the
euphorically tinkling sound,

When the bland glasses of water wanted to have some
fun; they deliberately stumbled when offered to the
unsuspecting visitor; drenching him disdainfully from
head to toe with their clammy caress,
When the sonorously serious eyelids wanted to have
some fun; they winked incessantly at passerby's;
making them the inevitable darling of every
flirtatious heart,

When the army of mischievous red ants wanted to have
some fun; they surreptitiously clambered up the
mammoth elephant's trunk; evoking him to thereby
collapse helplessly towards pathetically cold ground,

When the morbidly aloof spider wanted to have some
fun; it indefatigably ran up and down the periphery of
its web; eventually deciding to perch on the honey
coated biscuit placed by the luxuriously plush
bedside,

[...] Read more

poem by Nikhil Parekh
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First words in a book

My first book
of this ridiculous,
that ridiculous cat, wearing the hat,

was so laid back,
dead relaxed, and smiling
in black, yes black, in that hat.

And so absurd,
spoke fantastic words,
from that cat talking in the red hat.

Said I. 'I'm lost for words.'
'No! Never! I've decided'
Said that nerd of a cat in that hat.

'Go turn that page
and we can see. Go on, turn.'
Demanded that cat with it's hat.

'Quickly now and read
and read quicker then that.'
Laughed at me this cat in that hat.

'Look how words do, they do,
they have you.'
Shouted that damn cat and in it's hat.

'And I won’t and they won’t,
these words won’t, won't ever let go.'
Barked, really, damn cat in that damn hat.

'I think you think you've got the bug
but its that bug that has you. Nothing new.
Tell the world, its old news.' Said that hat cat.

'Now you’re an addict,
meow.'
Said that smiling cat in that hat.

poem by anonym
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White Hat White Coat

To the late doug whalan.... from your daughter.....

White hat white coat and greying in hair
he would dance around the dance floor with plenty of flair

White hat white coat black pants to boot
the men would all say 'silly old coot'

Whitehat white coat and a big friendly smile
when he went to a dance he'd dress in style

White hat white coat and a beat in his feet
it's of to the dance and people to meet

White hat white coat and a scotch on the rocks he'd love to dance
and the men would all mock

White hat white coat asleep at the wheel
he's danced all night 'boy i know how he feels'

White hat white coat have been put to the test
it's time to go home for a well earned rest

White hat white coat clean shirt and socks too
he's all geard up and ready for round two

White hat white coat so tired and run down
close your eyes and dream of your nights on the town

White hat white coat you've seen better days
your torn around the edges and your starting to fray

White hat white coat the time's come for us to part
but always remember ' i love you with all my heart '

poem by Debbie Gregory
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The Corsair

'O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea,
Our thoughts as boundless, and our soul's as free
Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam,
Survey our empire, and behold our home!
These are our realms, no limits to their sway-
Our flag the sceptre all who meet obey.
Ours the wild life in tumult still to range
From toil to rest, and joy in every change.
Oh, who can tell? not thou, luxurious slave!
Whose soul would sicken o'er the heaving wave;
Not thou, vain lord of wantonness and ease!
whom slumber soothes not - pleasure cannot please -
Oh, who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried,
And danced in triumph o'er the waters wide,
The exulting sense - the pulse's maddening play,
That thrills the wanderer of that trackless way?
That for itself can woo the approaching fight,
And turn what some deem danger to delight;
That seeks what cravens shun with more than zeal,
And where the feebler faint can only feel -
Feel - to the rising bosom's inmost core,
Its hope awaken and Its spirit soar?
No dread of death if with us die our foes -
Save that it seems even duller than repose:
Come when it will - we snatch the life of life -
When lost - what recks it but disease or strife?
Let him who crawls enamour'd of decay,
Cling to his couch, and sicken years away:
Heave his thick breath, and shake his palsied head;
Ours - the fresh turf; and not the feverish bed.
While gasp by gasp he falters forth his soul,
Ours with one pang - one bound - escapes control.
His corse may boast its urn and narrow cave,
And they who loath'd his life may gild his grave:
Ours are the tears, though few, sincerely shed,
When Ocean shrouds and sepulchres our dead.
For us, even banquets fond regret supply
In the red cup that crowns our memory;
And the brief epitaph in danger's day,
When those who win at length divide the prey,
And cry, Remembrance saddening o'er each brow,
How had the brave who fell exulted now!'

II.
Such were the notes that from the Pirate's isle
Around the kindling watch-fire rang the while:
Such were the sounds that thrill'd the rocks along,
And unto ears as rugged seem'd a song!
In scatter'd groups upon the golden sand,
They game-carouse-converse-or whet the brand:

[...] Read more

poem by Byron
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The Tale of Custard The Dragon

Belinda lived in a little white house,
With a little black kitten and a little gray mouse,
And a little yellow dog and a little red wagon,
And a realio, trulio, little pet dragon.

Now the name of the little black kitten was Ink,
And the little gray mouse, she called her Blink,
And the little yellow dog was sharp as Mustard,
But the dragon was a coward, and she called him Custard.

Custard the dragon had big sharp teeth,
And spikes on top of him and scales underneath,
Mouth like a fireplace, chimney for a nose,
And realio, trulio, daggers on his toes.

Belinda was as brave as a barrel full of bears,
And Ink and Blink chased lions down the stairs,
Mustard was as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard cried for a nice safe cage.

Belinda tickled him, she tickled him unmerciful,
Ink, Blink and Mustard, they rudely called him Percival,
They all sat laughing in the little red wagon
At the realio, trulio, cowardly dragon.

Belinda giggled till she shook the house,
And Blink said Week!, which is giggling for a mouse,
Ink and Mustard rudely asked his age,
When Custard cried for a nice safe cage.

Suddenly, suddenly they heard a nasty sound,
And Mustard growled, and they all looked around.
Meowch! cried Ink, and Ooh! cried Belinda,
For there was a pirate, climbing in the winda.

Pistol in his left hand, pistol in his right,
And he held in his teeth a cutlass bright,
His beard was black, one leg was wood;
It was clear that the pirate meant no good.

Belinda paled, and she cried, Help! Help!
But Mustard fled with a terrified yelp,
Ink trickled down to the bottom of the household,
And little mouse Blink strategically mouseholed.

But up jumped Custard, snorting like an engine,
Clashed his tail like irons in a dungeon,
With a clatter and a clank and a jangling squirm
He went at the pirate like a robin at a worm.

[...] Read more

poem by Ogden Nash
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Chanson de pirates (Pirates' Song)

Nous emmenions en esclavage
Cent chrétiens, pêcheurs de corail ;
Nous recrutions pour le sérail
Dans tous les moûtiers du rivage.
En mer, les hardis écumeurs !
Nous allions de Fez à Catane...
Dans la galère capitane
Nous étions quatre-vingts rameurs.

On signale un couvent à terre.
Nous jetons l'ancre près du bord.
A nos yeux s'offre tout d'abord
Une fille du monastère.
Prés des flots, sourde à leurs rumeurs,
Elle dormait sous un platane...
Dans la galère capitane
Nous étions quatre-vingts rameurs.

- La belle fille, il faut vous taire,
Il faut nous suivre. Il fait bon vent.
Ce n'est que changer de couvent.
Le harem vaut le monastère.
Sa hautesse aime les primeurs,
Nous vous ferons mahométane...
Dans la galère capitane
Nous étions quatre-vingts rameurs.

Elle veut fuir vers sa chapelle.
- Osez-vous bien, fils de Satan ?
- Nous osons, dit le capitan.
Elle pleure, supplie, appelle.
Malgré sa plainte et ses clameurs,
On l'emporta dans la tartane...
Dans la galère capitane
Nous étions quatre-vingts rameurs.

Plus belle encor dans sa tristesse,
Ses yeux étaient deux talismans.
Elle valait mille tomans ;
On la vendit à sa hautesse.
Elle eut beau dire : Je me meurs !
De nonne elle devint sultane...
Dans la galère capitane
Nous étions quatre-vingts rameurs.

Pirates' Song

We're bearing five-score Christian dogs
To serve the cruel drivers:

[...] Read more

poem by Victor Hugo
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Captain Teach alias Black Beard

Edward Teach was a native of Bristol, and sailed from that port
On board a privateer, in search of sport,
As one of the crew, during the French War in that station,
And for personal courage he soon gained his Captain's approbation.

'Twas in the spring of 1717, Captajn Harnigold and Teach sailed from Providence
For the continent of America, and no further hence;
And in their way captured a vessel laden with flour,
Which they put on board their own vessels in the space of an hour.

They also seized two other vessels snd took some gallons of wine,
Besides plunder to a considerable value, and most of it most costly design;
And after that they made a prize of a large French Guinea-man,
Then to act an independent part Teach now began.

But the news spread throughout America, far and near,
And filled many of the inhabitants' hearts with fear;
But Lieutenant Maynard with his sloops of war directly steered,
And left James River on the 17th November in quest of Black Beard,
And on the evening of the 21st came in sight of the pirate;
And when Black Beard spied his sloops he felt elate.

When he saw the sloops sent to apprehend him,
He didn't lose his courage, but fiendishly did grin;
And told his men to cease from drinking and their tittle-tattle,
Although he had only twenty men on board, and prepare for battle.

In case anything should happen to him during the engagement,
One of his men asked him, who felt rather discontent,
Whether his wife knew where he had buried his pelf,
When he impiously replied that nobody knew but the devil and himself.

In the Morning Maynard weighed and sent his boat to sound,
Which, coming near the pirate, unfortunately ran aground;
But Maynard lightened his vessel of the ballast and water,
Whilst from the pirates' ship small shot loudly did clatter.

But the pirates' small shot or slugs didn't Maynard appal,
He told his men to take their cutlasses and be ready upon his call;
And to conceal themselves every man below,
While he would remain at the helm and face the foe.

Then Black Beard cried, "They're all knocked on the head,"
When he saw no hand upon deck he thought they were dead;
Then Black Beard boarded Maynard'a sloop without dismay,
But Maynard's men rushed upon deck, then began the deadly fray.
Then Black Beard and Maynard engaged sword in hand,
And the pirate fought manfully and made a bold stand;
And Maynard with twelve men, and Black Beard with fourteen,
Made the most desperate and bloody conflict that ever was seen.

[...] Read more

poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Thinking of tomorrow

I didn’t eat food today; as I wanted to wholesomely famish myself; to
devour
the appetizing chunks of pudding; Tomorrow,

I didn’t sleep blissfully today; as I was overwhelmingly excited to
run;
Tomorrow,

I didn’t play mischievously today; as I wanted to reserve every iota of
my
energy to passionately leap; Tomorrow,

I didn’t drink water today; as I wanted to gulp gallons of voluptuous
wine;
Tomorrow,

I didn’t bathe today; as I wanted to drown my persona in flamboyant
waves of
the salty ocean; Tomorrow,

I didn’t see any object today; as I wanted to view the mesmerizing
beauty of
dawn; Tomorrow,

I didn’t move my legs today; as I wanted to dance unrelentingly all
night;
Tomorrow,

I didn’t revolve my fingers today; as I wanted to sketch intricate
landscapes
with their towering summits in the clouds; Tomorrow,

I didn’t study one bit today; as I wanted to read through volumes of
mystical
tales; Tomorrow,
I didn’t go out today; as I wanted to uninhibitedly explore through the
wilderness; Tomorrow,

I didn’t see the time today; as I wanted to scrupulously count every
unleashing minute tomorrow,

I didn’t smell the air today; as I wanted to inundate my nostrils with
the
enchanting perfume of lotus; Tomorrow,

I didn’t speak today; as I wanted to scream hysterically for hours on
the
trot; Tomorrow,

I didn’t reside in the house today; as I wanted to live the entire

[...] Read more

poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Desperately Autumn

Desperately autumn
Trees are bleeding
Winds escort leaves desperately teaming.
Desperately autumn
Hearts are slower beating,
But I’ll never leave your side.
Desperately autumn
Fantasy leaves, now revealing
Desperately autumn fantasy now retreating.
Desperately autumn seeks September
And never to leave your side.

poem by Vereen Fransman
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Desperately

There's something 'bout the way
You looked at me
Made me think for a moment that
Maybe we were meant to be
Living our lives separately
And It's strange that things change but not me wanting you so desperately
[chorus]
Oh, I cannot ignore it,
I keep giving in,
But I should know better
'Cause there was something 'bout the way you looked at me
And it's strange that things change but not me wanting you so desperately
You looked my way, you said "you frustrate me"
Like you're thinking of lines and times when you and I were you and me
You took our chance out on the street
then i missed my chance and chances are
It won't be coming back to me
[chorus]
So desperately... ho
[chorus]
I want you so desperately, oo oo oo
I keep giving in,
But I should know better
I keep giving in,
But I should know better
So desperately
I want you so desperately

song performed by Michelle Branch
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Hat And Feet

Hat And Feet
Fountains Of Wayne
I'm just a hat and feet
That's all that's left of me
A spot on the sidewalk
A mark on the street
I'm just a hat and feet
I'm just a hat and feet
You dropped a bomb on me
I didn't even see
Like a falling piano
From out of the window
Now I'm just a hat and feet
I'm just a hat and feet
I'm just a sitting duck
That ran out of luck
I'm the unhappy guy
That didn't look up high
I started running when I saw it coming
It got faster and louder til I took a powder
Now
I'm just a hat and feet
That's what 's become of me
Flat on the sidewalk
Stuck in the street
I'm just a hat and feet
I'm just a hat and feet

song performed by Fountains Of Wayne
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Hat Too Flat

We come in on the morning scan
All the way from far arcturus
Bringing with us peace and good will
From the margins of space and time
Our women are slung down low to the ground
Theyre very good youve probably had one
Our men are brave, studly and wise,
A pleasure to behold
Right away we walk the walk
More or less we talk the talk
But every time we make our play
Their eyes get wide they run away
cause the hat stays too flat
My hat is way too flat
My english she is much better now
But my hat remains too flat
The man smells a rat
And thats the end of that
My english it is more better now
But my hat is still too flat
Fair arcturus fashion forecast:
Skirts will be shorter
Legs stay long
Virtual raincoats are coming back
Hats as always continued flat
Back at home the machines work hard
We folk like to take it easy
Honing our awareness of
The finer things of life
Here when I go down to my job
I work hard for what seems like a long time
I look at my watch: fifteen minutes
It felt like half a day!
Soon enough we break for lunch
Me and the boys now Im one of the bunch
But no one wants to sit with me
So tell me what can the matter be?
The hat stays too flat
My hat is way too flat
My english she is much better now
But the hat is just too flat
A little thing like that
They dont get past the hat
My english it is more better now
But my hat remains too flat

song performed by Steely Dan
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Cat On Hat

I would not wear my old spats
so long as I had cat on hat,
We'd step in puddles water splat
but high and dry is cat on hat,
Piñata, piñata chant brats with bats
but safe from reach is cat on hat,
In winter warm my hat hair mat
love is a cosy cat on hat,
On windy days the hat sits pat
anchored by the cat on hat,
Geriatric romance is never flat
with a wing fur ball cat on hat,
The older ladies stop to chat
but always to the cat on hat.

Postscript:

With limited information,
well merely photographic interpretation
I offer the following observation.

Originally from Paris
Then Chicago by car
Ever so mysterious
The old chat nior.

poem by anonym
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All She Wanted

She was a good girl
Been true to herself
Never swayed by the notions of somebody else
Shed had it rough, maybe most of the time
With only one thing on her mind
All she wanted was a lovin man
All she wanted was a lovin man
Who was tryin to do the best that he can
All she wanted was a lovin, lovin man
There could be blue skies in her heart
She was waitin for the good times to start
She never wanted diamonds
She never wanted gold
She was holdin out for someone to hold
All she wanted was a lovin man
All she wanted was a lovin man
Who was tryin to do the best that he can
All she wanted was a lovin, lovin man
A loving man
All she wanted was a lovin man
All she wanted was a lovin man
All she wanted was a lovin man
Who was tryin to do the best that he can
All she wanted was a lovin, lovin man
Loving man
All she wanted was a lovin man
All she wanted was a lovin man
All she wanted was a lovin man
All she wanted was a lovin man

song performed by Electric Light Orchestra
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I Wanted To Tell Her

I wanted to tell her but I stuck to my lies
I wanted to tell her till I looked in her eyes
I wanted to tell her but I stuck to my lies
I wanted to tell her till I looked in her eyes
I wanted to tell her
I needed to tell her
Just like the wind you blew away your happy lovers touch
You bring the blues into my heart just like a rush
I cannot bear the way my heart has helped to keep you close
Of you my babe I cannot get enough
You touch me baby
I loved you to the lines of lies you told when I asked her name
I knew the perfume in your hair just wasnt mine
Did you ever think to notice me when you wasnt home?
I noticed every time
I wanted to tell her but I stuck to my lies
I wanted to tell her till I looked in her eyes
I wanted to tell her but I stuck to my lies
I wanted to tell her till I looked in her eyes
Thought you noticed every time but you didnt notice a thing
Id have to cover up my calls when the telephone would ring
Im tired of you and the things you do and all the things you say
No more babysitting for neurotic girls today
Im thinking that the pain Im going through just to keep you babe
Is something that I should bear
Did you ever stop to notice me when you had nothing?
And I never cared?
Just like the wind you blew away your happy lovers touch
You bring the blues into my life just like a rush
I cannot bear the way my heart has helped to keep you close
Of you my babe I cannot get enough
You touch me baby, dont be mean to me!
I wanted to tell her but I stuck to my lies
I wanted to tell her till I looked in her eyes
I wanted to tell her but I stuck to my lies
I wanted to tell her till I looked in her eyes
I wanted to tell her but I stuck to my lies
I wanted to tell her till I looked in her eyes
I wanted to tell her
I needed to tell her

song performed by Ministry
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Kid

Now, this ain't a loocid story, but it 'as a 'igh-class moral.
I can mop up all the praises hurled at me by them it soots.
An' with them it don't appeal to I don't seek to pick a quarrel;
But I pause to say in passin', that I hold 'em brainless coots.

Well it mighter been a nightmare or it mighter been a vision.
Why or 'ow or where it 'appened, or 'ow long or shot ago
These are items I am shy of; but I've come to this decision:
It all 'appened some'ow somewhere, an' I'm tellin' all I know.

With this lengthy introduction - which I'm trustin', inter-arlier,
Will be paid for, cash, at space rates, to assist a bard in need
(For the lot of jingle-writers in our own sun-kissed Australier
Ain't so sunny as it might be, on the 'ole) - I'll now proceed.

There was me - who's most important, bein' here to tell the story
There was Kodak's gloomy lodger, an' a 'Enry Lawson bloke,
Also E.J. Brady's pirate, full of husky oaths and gory,
An' a plump and pleasin' female from an Ambrose Dyson joke.

Likewise with us at the geth'rin' Was Grant 'Ervey's Strong Australian.
An' a curly Souter peach; it was a treat the way she dressed;
An' a Louis Esson dryad, sparsely gowned an' somewot alien
(For which rhyme I point to many precedents amongst the best).

Also there were many others, far too noomerous to mention;
Bron men, somwot out of drorin', but exceedin' terse an' keen;
Yeller pups, George Reids an' dry dogs - but it is not my intention
To innoomerate the items in a Chris'mas BULLYTEEN.

Where we were I 'ave no notion, tho' it mighter been Parnassus.
Any'ow - but I'm forgettin' one small guest that came unbid;
Standin' in a corner sulkin', seldom speakin', 'cept to sass us,
Rubbin' 'is thin calves together, stood a Norman Lindsay kid.

But the main point of this story is that all of us was stony;
An' we needed money badly for to give ourselves a treat.
An' we wanted to present the editor with somethin' toney
In the shape of clubs or rest cures, just to try an' get 'im sweet.

'Mates, alas, there's nothin'left us,' ses the gloomy Lawson native.
'We can only look for other castaways from other wrecks.'
When the Wild Cat, on 'is windlass, scratched 'is left ear contemplative
An' remarked, 'I think I've gotter scheme to land the fatted cheques.

'We are valuable assets,' 'e went on, in tones finanshul.
'We are also reproductive, an' I think I see a chance
To relieve the present tension, an' secure a sum substanshul,
Which all comes of my acquaintance with low schemes an' 'igh finance.

[...] Read more

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Added by Poetry Lover
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