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Joseph Goebbels

If we are attacked we can only defend ourselves with guns not with butter.

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Butter

Pull me from the toaster
Straight into the roaster
Fill my head with the stuff
Brightest dreams are made of
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Duh
Promising the big guns
Reward when the light comes
Screaming from the damage done
Screaming from the damage done
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Duh
Butter me up, butter me up
Butter me up, butter me up
Butter me up, butter me up
Butter me up, butter me up
Butter me up like I know you will
Cover it up like I know you will
Better yourself like I know you will
Breaking the trust like you always will
Be good for it, you never will
Be good for it, you never will
Be good for it, you never will
Be good for it, you never will
Butter me up, butter me up
Butter me up, butter me up
Butter me up, butter me up
Butter me up, butter me up
Duh
So you think you got the best
Thought I was like all the rest
Reaping from the damage done
Reaping from the damage done
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Duh

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Butter Up

Butter up,
If you want to keep me weak and numb.
Butter up,
If you want to be my number one.
Butter up,
If you want to have the weekends done,
With nothing but a loving and done with fun.

Butter up,
If you want to keep me weak and numb.
Butter up,
If you want to be my number one.
Butter up,
If you want to have the weekends done,
With nothing but a loving and done with fun.

And when Monday begins,
We'll have those memories...
To keep!

Butter up!
Butter up!
Butter up, butter up, butter up, butter up!
Butter up...
If you want to keep me weak and numb.
Butter up,
If you want to be my number one.
Butter up,
If you want to have the weekends done,
With nothing but a buttering done with fun.

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Melt The Guns

(andy partridge)
Programmes of violence,
As entertainment,
Brings the disease into your room.
We know the germ,
Which is man-made in metal,
Is really a key to your own tomb.
Prevention is better than cure,
Bad apples affecting the pure,
Youll gather your senses Im sure
Then agree to,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more to fire them.
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more desire them.
Children will want them,
Mothers supply them,
As long as your killers are heroes.
And all the media
Will fiddle while rome burns,
Acting like modern-time neros.
Prevention is better than cure,
Bad apples affecting the pure,
Youll gather your senses Im sure
Then agree to,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more to fire them.
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more desire them.
Im speaking to the justice league of america.
The u s of a,
Hey you,
Yes you in particular!
When it comes to the judgement day and youre standing at the gates with your weaponry,
You dead go down on one knee,
Clasp your hands in prayer and start quoting me,
cos we say...
Our father weve managed to contain the epidemic in one place, now,
Lets hope they shoot themselves instead of others,
Help to civilize the race now.
Weve trapped the cause of the plague,
In the land of the free and the home of the brave.

[...] Read more

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Melt The Guns

(andy partridge)
Programmes of violence,
As entertainment,
Brings the disease into your room.
We know the germ,
Which is man-made in metal,
Is really a key to your own tomb.
Prevention is better than cure,
Bad apples affecting the pure,
Youll gather your senses Im sure
Then agree to,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more to fire them.
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more desire them.
Children will want them,
Mothers supply them,
As long as your killers are heroes.
And all the media
Will fiddle while rome burns,
Acting like modern-time neros.
Prevention is better than cure,
Bad apples affecting the pure,
Youll gather your senses Im sure
Then agree to,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more to fire them.
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more desire them.
Im speaking to the justice league of america.
The u s of a,
Hey you,
Yes you in particular!
When it comes to the judgement day and youre standing at the gates with your weaponry,
You dead go down on one knee,
Clasp your hands in prayer and start quoting me,
cos we say...
Our father weve managed to contain the epidemic in one place, now,
Lets hope they shoot themselves instead of others,
Help to civilize the race now.
Weve trapped the cause of the plague,
In the land of the free and the home of the brave.

[...] Read more

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Peanut Butter Lovers

Chocolate,
And marmalade...
Is a taste craved by some.
Who may just rave...
About the flavor that comes.

But...
Those who prefer their peanut butter,
Alone...
Spoon it from a jar protected,
As if its diamonds they own.

Peanut butter,
When it's discovered.
Is loved like nothing other,
To soothe one's secret druthers.

It is licked quick from the lips.
And it isn't there long.
Those addicted to their peanut butter,
Have stacks in their homes.

Oh yes, it's peanut butter...
When it's discovered.
Is loved like nothing other,
To soothe one's secret druthers.

Chocolate,
And marmalade...
Is a taste craved by some.
Who may just rave...
About the flavor that comes.

But it's peanut butter,
Loved like nothing other.
It can make one stutter,
When it is discovered.

Oh yes, it's peanut butter...
When it is discovered.
Is loved like nothing other,
To soothe one's secret druthers.

Those peanut butter lovers,
Are different from the others.
Those peanut butter lovers,
Are different from the others.
Those peanut butter lovers.

Keep your chocolate and that marmalade.

[...] Read more

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Peanut-Butter Sandwich

I'll sing you a poem of a silly young king
Who played with the world at the end of a string,
But he only loved one single thing—
And that was just a peanut-butter sandwich.
His scepter and his royal gowns,
His regal throne and golden crowns
Were brown and sticky from the mounds
And drippings from each peanut-butter sandwich.
His subjects all were silly fools
For he had passed a royal rule
That all that they could learn in school
Was how to make a peanut-butter sandwich.
He would not eat his sovereign steak,
He scorned his soup and kingly cake,
And told his courtly cook to bake
An extra-sticky peanut-butter sandwich.
And then one day he took a bit
And started chewing with delight,
But found his mouth was stuck quite tight
From that last bite of peanut-butter sandwich.
His brother pulled, his sister pried,
The wizard pushed, his mother cried,
'My boy's committed suicide
From eating his last peanut-butter sandwich!'
The dentist came, and the royal doc.
The royal plumber banged and knocked,
But still those jaws stayed tightly locked.
Oh darn that sticky peanut-butter sandwich!
The carpenter, he tried with pliers,
The telephone man tried with wires,
The firemen, they tried with fire,
But couldn't melt that peanut-butter sandwich.
With ropes and pulleys, drills and coil,
With steam and lubricating oil—
For twenty years of tears and toil—
They fought that awful peanut-butter sandwich.
Then all his royal subjects came.
They hooked his jaws with grapplin' chains
And pulled both ways with might and main
Against that stubborn peanut-butter sandwich.
Each man and woman, girl and boy
Put down their ploughs and pots and toys
And pulled until kerack! Oh, joy—
They broke right through that peanut-butter sandwich
A puff of dust, a screech, a squeak—
The king's jaw opened with a creak.
And then in voice so faint and weak—
The first words that they heard him speak
Were, 'How about a peanut-butter sandwich?'

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Tom Zart's 52 Best Of The Rest America At War Poems

SONS AND DAUGHTERS OF WORLD WAR III

The White House
Washington
Tom Zart's Poems


March 16,2007
Ms. Lillian Cauldwell
President and Chief Executive Officer
Passionate Internet Voices Radio
Ann Arbor Michigan

Dear Lillian:
Number 41 passed on the CDs from Tom Zart. Thank you for thinking of me. I am thankful for your efforts to honor our brave military personnel and their families. America owes these courageous men and women a debt of gratitude, and I am honored to be the commander in chief of the greatest force for freedom in the history of the world.
Best Wishes.

Sincerely,

George W. Bush


SONS AND DAUGHTERS OF WORLD WAR III


Our sons and daughters serve in harm's way
To defend our way of life.
Some are students, some grandparents
Many a husband or wife.

They face great odds without complaint
Gambling life and limb for little pay.
So far away from all they love
Fight our soldiers for whom we pray.

The plotters and planners of America's doom
Pledge to murder and maim all they can.
From early childhood they are taught
To kill is to become a man.

They exploit their young as weapons of choice
Teaching in heaven, virgins will await.
Destroying lives along with their own
To learn of their falsehoods too late.

The fearful cry we must submit
And find a way to soothe them.
Where defenders worry if we stand down
The future for America is grim.

[...] Read more

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Rudyard Kipling

Screw-Guns

Smokin' my pipe on the mountings, sniffin' the mornin' cool,
I walks in my old brown gaiters along o' my old brown mule,
With seventy gunners be'ind me, an' never a beggar forgets
It's only the pick of the Army
that handles the dear little pets -- 'Tss! 'Tss!
For you all love the screw-guns -- the screw-guns they all love you!
So when we call round with a few guns,
o' course you will know what to do -- hoo! hoo!
Jest send in your Chief an' surrender --
it's worse if you fights or you runs:
You can go where you please, you can skid up the trees,
but you don't get away from the guns!

They sends us along where the roads are, but mostly we goes where they ain't:
We'd climb up the side of a sign-board an' trust to the stick o' the paint:
We've chivied the Naga an' Looshai, we've give the Afreedeeman fits,
For we fancies ourselves at two thousand,
we guns that are built in two bits -- 'Tss! 'Tss!
For you all love the screw-guns . . .

If a man doesn't work, why, we drills 'im an' teaches 'im 'ow to behave;
If a beggar can't march, why, we kills 'im an' rattles 'im into 'is grave.
You've got to stand up to our business an' spring without snatchin' or fuss.
D'you say that you sweat with the field-guns?
By God, you must lather with us -- 'Tss! 'Tss!
For you all love the screw-guns . . .

The eagles is screamin' around us, the river's a-moanin' below,
We're clear o' the pine an' the oak-scrub,
we're out on the rocks an' the snow,
An' the wind is as thin as a whip-lash what carries away to the plains
The rattle an' stamp o' the lead-mules --
the jinglety-jink o' the chains -- 'Tss! 'Tss!
For you all love the screw-guns . . .

There's a wheel on the Horns o' the Mornin',
an' a wheel on the edge o' the Pit,
An' a drop into nothin' beneath you as straight as a beggar can spit:
With the sweat runnin' out o' your shirt-sleeves,
an' the sun off the snow in your face,
An' 'arf o' the men on the drag-ropes
to hold the old gun in 'er place -- 'Tss! 'Tss!
For you all love the screw-guns . . .

Smokin' my pipe on the mountings, sniffin' the mornin' cool,
I climbs in my old brown gaiters along o' my old brown mule.
The monkey can say what our road was --
the wild-goat 'e knows where we passed.
Stand easy, you long-eared old darlin's!
Out drag-ropes! With shrapnel! Hold fast -- 'Tss! 'Tss!

[...] Read more

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The Auld Wife

PART I

The auld wife sat at her ivied door,
(Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese)
A thing she had frequently done before;
And her spectacles lay on her apron’d knees.

The piper he pip’d on the hill-top high,
(Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese)
Till the cow said, “I die,” and the goose asked “Why?”
And the dog said nothing, but search’d for fleas.

The farmer he strode through the square farmyard;
(Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese)
His last brew of ale was a trifle hard,
The connection of which with the plot one sees.

The farmer’s daughter hath frank blue eyes;
(Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese)
She hears the rooks caw in the windy skies,
As she sits at her lattice and shells her peas.

The farmer’s daughter hath ripe red lips;
(Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese)
If you try to approach her away she skips
Over tables and chairs with apparent ease.

The farmer’s daughter hath soft brown hair;
(Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese)
And I met with a ballad, I can’t say where,
Which wholly consisted of lines like these.

PART II

She sat with her hands ’neath her dimpled cheeks,
(Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese)
And spake not a word. While a lady speaks
There is hope, but she did n’t even sneeze.

She sat with her hands ’neath her crimson cheeks;
(Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese)
She gave up mending her father’s breeks,
And let the cat roll in her best chemise.

She sat with her hands ’neath her burning cheeks,
(Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese)
And gaz’d at the piper for thirteen weeks;
Then she follow’d him out o’er the misty leas.

Her sheep follow’d her, as their tails did them,

[...] Read more

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In Heat

Too many get their guns ready,
When they get in heat.
Just too many get their guns ready,
When they get in the heat.

Too many get their guns ready,
When they get in heat.
Just too many get their guns ready,
When they get in the heat.

And a slow compassioned passion,
Flows all over the place.
Begins to,
Flows all over the place.
Begins to,
Flows all over the place.

Just too many get their guns ready,
When they get in heat.
Just,
Too...
Many get their guns ready,
When they get in the heat.

Just,
Too...
Many get their guns ready,
When they get in heat.

Too many get their guns ready,
When they get in heat.
Just too many get their guns ready,
When they get in heat.

And...
When heat like this is felt and seen,
That passion flows all over...
The place.
That passion flows all over...
The place.

Just too many get their guns ready,
When they get in heat.
Just too many get their guns ready,
When they get in heat.
Just just too many get their guns ready,
When they get in heat.
Just too many get their guns ready,
When they get in heat.

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Rudyard Kipling

The Songs of the Lathes

The fans and the beltings they roar round me.
The power is shaking the floor round me
Till the lathes pick up their duty and the midnight-shift takes over.
It is good for me to be here!

Guns in Flanders--Flanders guns!
(I had a man that worked 'em once!)
Shells for guns in Flanders, Flanders!
Shells for guns in Flanders, Flanders!
Shells for guns in Flanders! Feeds the guns!

The cranes and the carriers they boom over me,
The bays and the galleries they loom over me,
With their quarter-mile of pillars growing little in the distance--
It is good for me to be here!

The Zeppelins and Gothas they raid over us.
Our lights give warning, and fade over us.
(Seven thousand women keeping quiet in the darkness!)
Oh, it's good for me to be here.

The roofs and the buildings they grow round me,
Eating up the fields I used to know round me;
And the shed that I began in is a sub-inspector's office--
So long have I been here!

I've seen six hundred mornings make our lamps grow dim,
Through the bit that isn't painted round our sky-light rim,
And the sunshine through the window slope according to the seasons,
Twice since I've been here.

The trains on the sidings they call to us
With the hundred thousand blanks that they haul to us;
And we send 'em what we've finished, and they take it where it's wanted,
For that is why we are here!

Man's hate passes as his love will pass.
God made Woman what she always was.
Them that bear the burden they will never grant forgiveness
So long as they are here!

Once I was a woman, but that's by with me.
All I loved and looked for, it must die with me;
But the Lord has left me over for a servant of the Judgment,
And I serve His Judgments here!

Guns in Flanders--Flanders guns!
(I had a son that worked 'em once!)
Shells for guns in Flanders, Flanders!
Shells for guns in Flanders, Flanders!

[...] Read more

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Billy Get Your Guns

I just seen trouble
He's calling out your name tonite
Billy get your guns
You could walk away
But I know you were born to fight
So Billy get your guns
The bandileros are strung out
In the promenade
Billy get your guns
Chorus
Billy get your guns
There's trouble blowing like a hurricane
Billy get your guns
That's the price on your head for the
Price of fame
And it'll never change
Billy get your guns
There's a whiskey bottle empty
Sittin' on the bar
Billy get your guns
And some organ grinder singing
About some sucker moving on
Billy get your guns
All the whores are hanging out
Waiting to get paid
Billy get your guns
From some Johnny on the spot
Who said hey keep the change baby
Billy get your guns
There's trouble blowing like a hurricane
Billy get your guns
That's the price on your head for the
Price of fame
And it'll never change

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The King's Breakfast

The King's Breakfast
The King asked
The Queen, and
The Queen asked
The Dairymaid:
"Could we have some butter for
The Royal slice of bread?"
The Queen asked the Dairymaid,
The Dairymaid
Said, "Certainly,
I'll go and tell the cow
Now
Before she goes to bed."

The Dairymaid
She curtsied,
And went and told
The Alderney:
"Don't forget the butter for
The Royal slice of bread."
The Alderney
Said sleepily:
"You'd better tell
His Majesty
That many people nowadays
Like marmalade
Instead."

The Dairymaid
Said, "Fancy!"
And went to
Her Majesty.
She curtsied to the Queen, and
She turned a little red:
"Excuse me,
Your Majesty,
For taking of
The liberty,
But marmalade is tasty, if
It's very
Thickly
Spread."

The Queen said
"Oh!:
And went to
His Majesty:
"Talking of the butter for
The royal slice of bread,
Many people

[...] Read more

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God Defend New Zealand

God of Nations at Thy feet,
In the bonds of love we meet,
Hear our voices, we entreat,
God defend our free land.
Guard Pacific's triple star
From the shafts of strife and war,
Make her praises heard afar,
God defend New Zealand.

Men of every creed and race,
Gather here before Thy face,
Asking Thee to bless this place,
God defend our free land.
From dissension, envy, hate,
And corruption guard our State,
Make our country good and great,
God defend New Zealand.

Peace, not war, shall be our boast,
But, should foes assail our coast,
Make us then a mighty host,
God defend our free land.
Lord of battles in Thy might,
Put our enemies to flight,
Let our cause be just and right,
God defend New Zealand.

Let our love for Thee increase,
May Thy blessings never cease,
Give us plenty, give us peace,
God defend our free land.
From dishonour and from shame,
Guard our country's spotless name,
Crown her with immortal fame,
God defend New Zealand.

May our mountains ever be
Freedom's ramparts on the sea,
Make us faithful unto Thee,
God defend our free land.
Guide her in the nation's van,
Preaching love and truth to man,
Working out Thy glorious plan,
God defend New Zealand.

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Fire Your Guns

Wild beast, Ill make you mine
Taste your kiss, sweet lips devine
She got moves, drips of sweat
She got eyes of blue, body curves
n legs thatll break your nerves
Chorus:
Fire - when shes going down
Fire - then she make you drown
Fire - then she blow you round
Yeah, you want some fun
Fire your guns
Fire your guns
Fire your guns
Fire your guns
That lady bites, hard style
Drips of sex, eyes are wild
She got moves, long long legs
She got eyes of blue, body curves
Legs thatll shake the earth
Chorus
Yeah, you want some fun
You gotta fire your guns
Fire your guns
You gotta fire your guns
Fire your guns
(yeah, yeow!)
Yeah
Chorus
Yeah, you want some fun
Gotta fire your guns
Fire your guns (x9)

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Young Guns

Hey hotshot, your're a one man band
The Don on the block with a glock in your hand
With the girl and the ride, you dont't wanna hear
Think you're getting respect, all you've found is fear
The one damn thing you're sure to find
Is another gun, where you gonna hide?
Said you'd never never run, I guess you lied
You're the fool in the crew that died
Your mother cried
Hold your fire, cool your temper
Young guns ever too bold
Hold your fire, just remember
Young guns never grow old
Hey hotshot, you're a one man band
The Don on the block with a glock in your hand
With the girl and the ride, you dont't wanna hear
Think you're getting respect all you find is fear
The one damn thing you're sure to find
Is a bigger gun to blow away your pride
Your young blood running in the roadside
And in the crossfire, innocents died
We all cried
Hold your fire, cool your temper
Young guns ever too bold
Hold your fire, just remember
Young guns never grow old.
Hey hotshot, you're a one man band
The don on the block with a glock in your hand
With the girl and the ride, you dont't wanna hear
Think your getting respect, all you've found is fear
Hold your fire, cool your temper
Young guns ever to bold
Hold your fire, just remember
Young guns never grow old
Hold your fire, cool your temper
Young guns ever too bold
Hold your fire, just remember
Young guns never grow old
Young guns never grow old
Young guns never grow old

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Through the eyes of a Field Coronet (Epic)

Introduction

In the kaki coloured tent in Umbilo he writes
his life’s story while women, children and babies are dying,
slowly but surely are obliterated, he see how his nation is suffering
while the events are notched into his mind.

Lying even heavier on him is the treason
of some other Afrikaners who for own gain
have delivered him, to imprisonment in this place of hatred
and thoughts go through him to write a book.


Prologue

The Afrikaner nation sprouted
from Dutchmen,
who fought decades without defeat
against the super power Spain

mixed with French Huguenots
who left their homes and belongings,
with the revocation of the Edict of Nantes.
Associate this then with the fact

that these people fought formidable
for seven generations
against every onslaught that they got
from savages en wild animals

becoming marksmen, riding
and taming wild horses
with one bullet per day
to hunt a wild antelope,

who migrated right across the country
over hills in mass protest
and then you have
the most formidable adversary
and then let them fight

in a natural wilderness
where the hunter,
the sniper and horseman excels
and any enemy is at a lost.

Let them then also be patriotic
into their souls,
believe in and read
out of the word of God

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You Put Your Chocolate In My Peanut Butter!

Hey you, you have too much hair and we dont like what you wear
And you have really bad breath so were gonna beat you to death
Because there is plenty of us and only one of you weve got plenty
Of reasons and heres just a few you put your chocolate in my
Peanut butter I was walking and you were in my way you looked
At me without my permission you never even apologized you put
Your chocolate in my peanut butter thats good enough reason for
Me to bash you put your chocolate in my peanut butter thats good
Enough reason for me to smash no justice / theres just us / so trust us
You put your chocolate in my peanut butter you put your chocolate in
My peanut butter you put your chocolate in my peanut butter you put
Your chocolate in my peanut butter

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I eat peanut butter

I eat peanut butter from a jar
Sitting quitly naked at the bar
Wired in frankincense and cheap olive oil
You can never spot where Ive hidden my old boil

I eat peanut butter with a spoon
Hanging on a telophone from the moon
Looking everywhere for the third rock in my drawer
cause I'm followed by the elaphant whose getting rather cold

I taste peanut butter with marmalade
Its sutured with nectrines with astringent taste
Surrounded by a gang of malefactent tea cups
Coming from Buenos Aries on the back of maple syrup

want to ride the posse of little bitty irishmen?


I lick peanut butter from outerspace
I was born southside so it goes to my waist
I lick peanut butter from a dress
Its my wifes who i never met

I take peanut butter to a zoo
Watching the contortions of the Gaia philharmonic
Exasperating riddles which their tvs cant decode
While swimming in the puzzles of a Lincoln camry ford

Bet you wished their was some Peanut butter
to explain this ghastly poem?

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No Butter?

No Butter? (when a country practice monopoly)

Butter, the chef said, I can’t fry a snitzel without butter? If I use margarine
it gets too salty and tastes like whale, if I use olive oil, it gets a Portuguese
flavour, a snitzel is Austrian. How can you fry an egg without using butter,
one loses the taste of clover and rural idyll, farm yards and chickens looking
for worms? ” ” Sorry the restaurant manager said, but we have no butter,
you gotta use margarine and anyway the guests are not chefs they will not
notice the difference.”The chef looked aghast, put down his ladle and said:
“You can’t mean that, has all my work comes to nothing? ” Took off his apron,
had tears in his eyes, ready to walk out into the cold night and not return.
“Hang on the manager said, without you I can’t run this place, it is the caring
way you prepare food that our guests like you they know there is a butter
shortage, but they don’t mind as long as they now you are the chef.”
Mollified the cook took his apron back on lifted his ladle and said, “Ok, but
see if you can get some butter even if you have to buy it from the Danes.

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