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Calaloo

Notes: nothing in my novel suggests this song except the island ambience. jimmy came up with it only after we had finshed the first draft of the musical, and it is quintessential buffett, quirky
Ery and a lot of truth, in a rousing song of the kitchen help. the hotel norman paperman takes over is called the gull reef club and the cook, sheila, who sings calaloo, is the true soul of the
, and of the caribbean.
Chorus:
Calaloo, strange calaloo
Mysterious curious roux
Try as you might to avoid the hoodoo
Sooner or later were all in the stew
>from here in my kitchen
I watch the whole seen
Life on dis island s
A unique cuisine
It simmers and bubbles
And looks quite routine
Till somebody spill all da beans
Chorus:
Calaloo, strange calaloo
Mysterious curious roux
Try as you might to avoid the hoodoo
Sooner or later were all in the stew
Night after night
On dat terrace out der
Plays a melodrama
Could equal shakesphere
Dey may tell theirself
Dat somehow dey are not
Best take it from me,
Were all in the same pot
Chorus:
Calaloo, strange calaloo
Mysterious curious roux
Try as you might to avoid the hoodoo
Sooner or later were all in the stew
Bridge:
Hey hey sheila, hey hey sheila
Hey hey sheila, whats in dat calaloo
Hey sheila tell us, hey sheila tell us
Hey hey sheila, whats in that calaloo
We got crab and pig tell
Squid ink and fish scale
Okra and dasheen leaves
Chitchat and chatter
Fill up the platter
With a garnish of pure make believe
Chorus:
Calaloo, strange calaloo
Mysterious and curious roux
Though some might think somehow they are not
Make no mistake were all in the same pot
Take it from me this is no camelot.

song performed by Jimmy Buffett
Added by Lucian Velea
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Kinja Rules

Lorna
Mista paper, senator pullman he just call.
He ask how come ya don need no watah
Norman
Dont need water!
Lorna
Well, you let the barge go by
He comin to talk to you
Norman
Who is senator pullman anyway?
Why do I have to signal the barge?
Iris
Welcome to the caribbean, put on a shirt at least.
The big enchilada is on his way
Senator pullman
Mr. norman paperman, I presume?
Joinin us in kinja for de tourist boom?
Norman
Norman paperman at your service.
Meeting the kingpin, Im slightly nervous
Pullman
Mr. paperman, I here to be your friend
But theres just certain rules here we can not bend
Paperman how about the water? my cisterns flat.
Pullman
Why sure, I come to take care of dat
Chorus
But you gotta play by kinja rules
Forget about da tings you learned in school
We use a different box of tools
And you gotta play by kinja rules
Pullman
Now dis alien aint bonded for no gondolier
Hes bonded for gardener-dat why he here
De chief of immigration a power in dis town
Chief find out-your hotel close down
Paperman
Hereafter gardenings all hell do I didnt know, I swear to you
Pullman
Doan hoross yourself, its okay mister
De chief of immigration-shes my sister
Chorus
But you gotta play by kinja rules
Forget about that civics course you learned in school
We aint city folks, but we aint fools
And you gotta play by kinja rules
Pullman
Stop!
Paperman
How about my water?

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song performed by Jimmy Buffett
Added by Lucian Velea
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Intro-the Legend Of Norman Paperman/kinja

By jimmy buffett, 1996
Jimmy buffett explores new creative ground here, putting the two-hundred year history of amerigo, a fictitious caribbean island, into a calypso number, and framing it into another song, the lege
Norman paperman, the theme of the show. the principal singer is the governor of the island, and the key characters of the show sing verses about the history.
Narrator
Kinja was the name of the island when it was british. the actual name was king george the third island, but the islanders shortened that to kinja. now the name in the maps and the guidebooks is
Go, but everybody who still lives there still calls it kinja. the united states acquired the island peaceably in 1940 as part of the shuffling of old destroyers and caribbean real estate that we
Between mr. roosevelt and mr. churchill. the details of the transaction were and are vague to the inhabitants. the west indian is not exactly hostile to change, but hes not much inclined to be
In it. meantime in a fashion amerigo is getting americanized. the inflow of cash is making everyone more prosperous. most kinjans go along cheerily with this explosion of american energy in the
Bbean. to them it seems like a new harmless and apparently endless carnival.
Sanders
Have you ever dreamed of escaping from your dull existence to a new life on a tropical island? our story is about a man who did it - a real person, whose true adventure has become a legend here
E caribbean. welcome one and all to the legend of norman paperman.
Ensemble
Dis is the legend of norman papuhman
Tale from the islands well share
Chasin illusions can get quite confusin
Is it a dream or a nightmare
Women
Dis is the legend of norman papuhman
Tale from the islands well tell
Men
Chasin illusions can get quite confusin
Cause heaven can turn into hell.
Sanders [sings]
Kinjas the name of the island
Its been kinja for over two hundred years
But remember paradise
Doesnt come without a price
Let me make that abundantly clear
Kinja, our beautiful island
In a windward archipeligo
Weve been english, french and dutch
Never seemed to matter much
Now were officially amerigo
Ensemble
Were kinja
Still kinja
Our kinja
Sanders
(sheila, chef at the gull reef club)
Sheila
Our ancestors came in the slave ships
To work for the privileged few
Who wore paris fashions
And lived in pink mansions
While we huddled in shacks of bamboo
Den da sugar beet bring us our freedom
With the help of our God we got through
Insurrection, beheadins, funerals and weddins
Hurricanes and a world war or two

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song performed by Jimmy Buffett
Added by Lucian Velea
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Time To Go Home

Henny
Hey now mine host, dont be so melancholy
Youve made the most out of amy balls folly
You went crazy, ran off with an actress and didnt get rich
What can I say? I still love you, you son of a bitch
Norman new yorks gray and cold but somehow I miss that
Norman and
Running the gull reef club bordered on hand to hand combat
Henny
You beat the odds, water gods now its time for shalom
Hey mr. paperman, I think its time to go home
Chorus
Time to go home norman
Time to go home
Norman
Hey mistuh papuh-mon
Time to go home
Chasin illusions can get quite confusin
Hey mr. papuh-mon time to go home
Norman
Henny Im sorry I hurt you
Thats all I can say
Henny
Who knows this whole episode
Just might end up on broadway
Norman
To hell with bureaucracy and island mystery
Henny
Lets clear the air dear but no more affairs here
Norman
To hell with the hill crowd and life or death parties
Henny
I know a guy who has contacts at sardis
Duet
Hey mister (mrs.) paperman I think its time to go home
Chorus
Time to go home norman
Time to go home norman
Hey mistuh papuh-mon
Time to go home
Chasin illusions can get quite confusin
Hey mr. papuh-mon time to go home
Time to go home norman
Time to go home norman
Hey mistuh papuh-mon
Time to go home
Chasin illusions can get quite confusin
Hey mr. paperman
Time to go home
Time to go home norman

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song performed by Jimmy Buffett
Added by Lucian Velea
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Gareth And Lynette

The last tall son of Lot and Bellicent,
And tallest, Gareth, in a showerful spring
Stared at the spate. A slender-shafted Pine
Lost footing, fell, and so was whirled away.
'How he went down,' said Gareth, 'as a false knight
Or evil king before my lance if lance
Were mine to use--O senseless cataract,
Bearing all down in thy precipitancy--
And yet thou art but swollen with cold snows
And mine is living blood: thou dost His will,
The Maker's, and not knowest, and I that know,
Have strength and wit, in my good mother's hall
Linger with vacillating obedience,
Prisoned, and kept and coaxed and whistled to--
Since the good mother holds me still a child!
Good mother is bad mother unto me!
A worse were better; yet no worse would I.
Heaven yield her for it, but in me put force
To weary her ears with one continuous prayer,
Until she let me fly discaged to sweep
In ever-highering eagle-circles up
To the great Sun of Glory, and thence swoop
Down upon all things base, and dash them dead,
A knight of Arthur, working out his will,
To cleanse the world. Why, Gawain, when he came
With Modred hither in the summertime,
Asked me to tilt with him, the proven knight.
Modred for want of worthier was the judge.
Then I so shook him in the saddle, he said,
"Thou hast half prevailed against me," said so--he--
Though Modred biting his thin lips was mute,
For he is alway sullen: what care I?'

And Gareth went, and hovering round her chair
Asked, 'Mother, though ye count me still the child,
Sweet mother, do ye love the child?' She laughed,
'Thou art but a wild-goose to question it.'
'Then, mother, an ye love the child,' he said,
'Being a goose and rather tame than wild,
Hear the child's story.' 'Yea, my well-beloved,
An 'twere but of the goose and golden eggs.'

And Gareth answered her with kindling eyes,
'Nay, nay, good mother, but this egg of mine
Was finer gold than any goose can lay;
For this an Eagle, a royal Eagle, laid
Almost beyond eye-reach, on such a palm
As glitters gilded in thy Book of Hours.
And there was ever haunting round the palm
A lusty youth, but poor, who often saw

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poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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It's Five O'clock Somewhere

The sun is hot and that old clock is movin' slow,
An' so am I.
Work day passes like molasses in wintertime,
But it's July.
I'm gettin' paid by the hour, an' older by the minute.
My boss just pushed me over the limit.
I'd like to call him somethin',
I think I'll just call it a day.
Pour me somethin' tall an' strong,
Make it a "Hurricane" before I go insane.
It's only half-past twelve but I don't care.
It's five o'clock somewhere.
Oh, this lunch break is gonna take all afternoon,
An' half the night.
Tomorrow mornin', I know there'll be hell to pay,
Hey, but that's all right.
I ain't had a day off now in over a year.
Our Jamaican vacation's gonna start right here.
if the 'phones for me,
You can tell 'em I just sailed away.
An' pour me somethin' tall an' strong,
Make it a "Hurricane" before I go insane.
It's only half-past twelve but I don't care.
It's five o'clock somewhere.
I could pay off my tab, pour myself in a cab,
An' be back to work before two.
At a moment like this, I can't help but wonder,
What would Jimmy Buffett do?
JIMMY BUFFETT:
Funny you should ask Alan,
I'd say:
Pour me somethin' tall an' strong,
Make it a "Hurricane" before I go insane.
It's only half-past twelve but I don't care.
ALAN JACKSON & JIMMY BUFFETT:
Pour me somethin' tall an' strong,
Make it a "Hurricane" before I go insane.
It's only half-past twelve but I don't care.
He don't care.
I don't care.
It's five o'clock somewhere.
JIMMY BUFFETT:
What time zone am I on? What country am I in?
ALAN JACKSON:
It doesn't matter, it's five o'clock somewhere.
JIMMY BUFFETT:
It's always on five in Margaritaville, come to think of it.
ALAN JACKSON:
Yeah, I heard that.
JIMMY BUFFETT:

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song performed by Alan Jackson
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Five Visions Of Captain Cook

I
COOK was a captain of the Admiralty
When sea-captains had the evil eye,
Or should have, what with beating krakens off
And casting nativities of ships;
Cook was a captain of the powder-days
When captains, you might have said, if you had been
Fixed by their glittering stare, half-down the side,
Or gaping at them up companionways,
Were more like warlocks than a humble man—
And men were humble then who gazed at them,
Poor horn-eyed sailors, bullied by devils' fists
Of wind or water, or the want of both,
Childlike and trusting, filled with eager trust—
Cook was a captain of the sailing days
When sea-captains were kings like this,
Not cold executives of company-rules
Cracking their boilers for a dividend
Or bidding their engineers go wink
At bells and telegraphs, so plates would hold
Another pound. Those captains drove their ships
By their own blood, no laws of schoolbook steam,
Till yards were sprung, and masts went overboard—
Daemons in periwigs, doling magic out,
Who read fair alphabets in stars
Where humbler men found but a mess of sparks,
Who steered their crews by mysteries
And strange, half-dreadful sortilege with books,
Used medicines that only gods could know
The sense of, but sailors drank
In simple faith. That was the captain
Cook was when he came to the Coral Sea
And chose a passage into the dark.
How many mariners had made that choice
Paused on the brink of mystery! 'Choose now!'
The winds roared, blowing home, blowing home,
Over the Coral Sea. 'Choose now!' the trades
Cried once to Tasman, throwing him for choice
Their teeth or shoulders, and the Dutchman chose
The wind's way, turning north. 'Choose, Bougainville!'
The wind cried once, and Bougainville had heard
The voice of God, calling him prudently
Out of a dead lee shore, and chose the north.
The wind's way. So, too, Cook made choice,
Over the brink, into the devil's mouth,
With four months' food, and sailors wild with dreams
Of English beer, the smoking barns of home.
So Cook made choice, so Cook sailed westabout,
So men write poems in Australia.
II

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poem by Kenneth Slessor
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Truth Through Repetition

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poem by David Keig
Added by Poetry Lover
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The Gift

(reed, cale, morrison, tucker)
Waldo jeffers had reached his limit. it was now mid-august which meant that he had been separated from marsha for more than two months. two months, and all he had to show was three dog-eared let
And two very expensive long-distance phone calls. true, when school had ended and shed returned to wisconsin, and he to locust, pennsylvania. she had sworn to maintain a certain fidelity, she w
Date occasionally, but merely as amusement. she would remain faithful.
But lately waldo had begun to worry. he had trouble sleeping at night and when he did, he had horrible dreams. he lay awake at night, tossing and turning underneath his pleated quilt protector,
Welling in his eyes. as he pictured marsha, her sworn vows overcome by liquor and the smooth soothing of some neanderthal, finally submitting to the final caresses of sexual oblivion. it was mo
An the human mind could bear.
Visions of marshas faithlessness haunted him. daytime fantasies of sexual abandon permeated his thoughts. and the thing was they wouldnt understand how she really was. he, waldo, alone, unders
This. he had intuitively grasped every nook and cranny of her psyche. he had made her smile, and she needed him, and he wasnt there (aaahh..). the idea came to him on the thursday before the mu
Parade was scheduled to appear. he had just finished mowing and etching the edelsons lawn for a dollar fifty and had checked the mailbox to see if there was at least a word from marsha. there w
Thing more than a circular form the amalgamated aluminum company of america inquiring into his awing needs. at least they cared enough to write.
It was a new york company. you could go anywhere in the mail. then it struck him, he didnt have enough money to go to wisconsin in the accepted fashion, true, but why not mail himself? it was a
Ly simple. he would ship himself parcel post special delivery. the next day waldo went to the supermarket to purchase the necessary equipment. he bought masking tape, a staple gun and a medium s
Cardboard box, just right for a person of his built. he judged that with a minimum of jostling he could ride quite comfortably. a few airholes, some water, perhaps some midnight snacks and it wo
Robably be as good as going tourist.
By friday afternoon, waldo was set. he was packed and the post office had agreed to pick him up at three oclock. hed marked the package fragile, and as he sat curled up inside, res
The foam rubber cushioning hed thoughtfully included, he tried to picture the look of awe and happiness on marshas face as she opened the door, saw the package, tipped the deliverer, and then o
It to see her waldo finally there in person. she would kiss him, then, maybe they could see a movie. if hed only thought of this before. suddenly rough hands gripped his package and he felt hi
Barne up. he landed with a thud in a truck and then he was off.
Marsha bronson had just finished setting her hair. it had been a very rough weekend. she had to remember not to drink like that. bill had been nice about it though. after it was over hed said t
E still respected her and, after all, it was certainly the way of nature, and even though, no he didnt love her, he did feel an affection for her. and, after all, they were grown adults. oh, wh
Lly could teach waldo - but that seemed like years ago. sheila klein, her very, very best friend walked in through the porch screen door and into the kitchen. oh, its absolutely maudlin o
E. ach, I know what you mean, I feel all icky! marsha tightened her cotton robe with the silk outer edge. sheila ran her finger over some salt grains on the kitchen table, lick
R fingers and made a face. Im supposed to take these salt pills, but she wrinkled her nose, they make me feel like throwing up. marsha started to pat herself under the c
An exercise shed seen on television. g-d, dont even talk about tha
T. she got up from the table and went to the sink where she picked up a bottle of pink and blue vitamins. want one? supposed to be better than steak. and attempted to touch her
S. I dont think Ill ever touch a daiquiri again. she gave up and sat down, this time nearer the table that supported the telephone. maybe hell call. she said to sheila
Ance. sheila nibbled on a cuticle. after last night, I thought maybe youd be through with him. I know what you mean, my g-d, he was like an octopus. hands all over the place.&
She gestured, raising her arms upwards in defense. the thing is after a while, you get tired of fighting with him, you know, and after all he didnt really do anything friday and saturday
Kind of owed it to him, you know what I mean. she started to scratch. sheila was giggling with her hand over her mouth. Ill tell you, I feel the same way, and even after a while,&q
Here she bend forward in a whisper, wanted to, and now she was laughing very loudly.
It was at this point that mr. jameison of the clarence darrow post office rang the door bell of the large colored stucco frame house. when marsha bronson opened the door, he helped her carry the
Age in. he had his yellow and green slips of paper signed and left with a fifteen cent tip that marsha had gotten out of her mothers small beige pocket book in the den. what do you think i
Sheila asked. marsha stood with her arms folded behind her back. she stared at the brown cardboard carton that sat in the middle of the living room: I dont know.
Inside the package waldo quivered with excitement as he listened to the muffled voices. sheila ran her fingernail over the masking tape that ran down the center of the carton. why dont yo
K at the return address and see who it is from? waldo felt his heart beating. he could feel the vibrating footsteps. it would be soon.
Marsha walked around the carton and read the ink-scratched label. its from waldo. that schmuck! said sheila. waldo trembled with expecta- tion. you might as well o
T, said sheila. both of them tried to flip the stable flap. ah, said marsha groaning. he must have nailed it shut. they tagged at the flap again. my god, you
A power drill to get this thing opened. they pulled again. you cant get a grip! they both stood still, breathing heavily. why dont you get the scissors, said shei
Arsha ran into the kitchen, but all she could find was a little sewing scissors. then she remembered that her father kept a collection of tools in the basement. she ran downstairs and when she c
Ack, she had a large metal cutter in her hand. this is the best I could find. she was out of breath. here, you do it. Im gonna die. she sank into a large fluffy couch an
Aled noisily. sheila tried to make a slit between the masking tape and the end of the cardboard, but the blade was too big and th
Ere was not enough room. g-ddamn this thing! she said feeling very exaspe- rated. then smiling I got an idea. what? said marsha. just watch, said
A touching her finger to her head.
Inside the package, waldo was transfixed with excitement that he could hardly breathe. his skin felt prickly from the heat and he could feel his heart beating in his throat. it would be soon. sh
Stood upright and walked around to the other side of the package. then she sank down to her knees, grasped the cutter by both hands, took a deep breath and plunged the long blade through the mid
F the package, through the middle of the masking tape, through the card- board through the cushioning and (thud) right through the center of waldo jeffers head, which split slightly and caused l
Rhythmic arcs of red to pulsate gently in the morning sun...

song performed by Velvet Underground
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Gift

(reed, cale, morrison, tucker)
Waldo jeffers had reached his limit. it was now mid-august which meant that he had been separated from marsha for more than two months. two months, and all he had to show was three dog-eared let
And two very expensive long-distance phone calls. true, when school had ended and shed returned to wisconsin, and he to locust, pennsylvania. she had sworn to maintain a certain fidelity, she w
Date occasionally, but merely as amusement. she would remain faithful.
But lately waldo had begun to worry. he had trouble sleeping at night and when he did, he had horrible dreams. he lay awake at night, tossing and turning underneath his pleated quilt protector,
Welling in his eyes. as he pictured marsha, her sworn vows overcome by liquor and the smooth soothing of some neanderthal, finally submitting to the final caresses of sexual oblivion. it was mo
An the human mind could bear.
Visions of marshas faithlessness haunted him. daytime fantasies of sexual abandon permeated his thoughts. and the thing was they wouldnt understand how she really was. he, waldo, alone, unders
This. he had intuitively grasped every nook and cranny of her psyche. he had made her smile, and she needed him, and he wasnt there (aaahh..). the idea came to him on the thursday before the mu
Parade was scheduled to appear. he had just finished mowing and etching the edelsons lawn for a dollar fifty and had checked the mailbox to see if there was at least a word from marsha. there w
Thing more than a circular form the amalgamated aluminum company of america inquiring into his awing needs. at least they cared enough to write.
It was a new york company. you could go anywhere in the mail. then it struck him, he didnt have enough money to go to wisconsin in the accepted fashion, true, but why not mail himself? it was a
Ly simple. he would ship himself parcel post special delivery. the next day waldo went to the supermarket to purchase the necessary equipment. he bought masking tape, a staple gun and a medium s
Cardboard box, just right for a person of his built. he judged that with a minimum of jostling he could ride quite comfortably. a few airholes, some water, perhaps some midnight snacks and it wo
Robably be as good as going tourist.
By friday afternoon, waldo was set. he was packed and the post office had agreed to pick him up at three oclock. hed marked the package fragile, and as he sat curled up inside, res
The foam rubber cushioning hed thoughtfully included, he tried to picture the look of awe and happiness on marshas face as she opened the door, saw the package, tipped the deliverer, and then o
It to see her waldo finally there in person. she would kiss him, then, maybe they could see a movie. if hed only thought of this before. suddenly rough hands gripped his package and he felt hi
Barne up. he landed with a thud in a truck and then he was off.
Marsha bronson had just finished setting her hair. it had been a very rough weekend. she had to remember not to drink like that. bill had been nice about it though. after it was over hed said t
E still respected her and, after all, it was certainly the way of nature, and even though, no he didnt love her, he did feel an affection for her. and, after all, they were grown adults. oh, wh
Lly could teach waldo - but that seemed like years ago. sheila klein, her very, very best friend walked in through the porch screen door and into the kitchen. oh, its absolutely maudlin o
E. ach, I know what you mean, I feel all icky! marsha tightened her cotton robe with the silk outer edge. sheila ran her finger over some salt grains on the kitchen table, lick
R fingers and made a face. Im supposed to take these salt pills, but she wrinkled her nose, they make me feel like throwing up. marsha started to pat herself under the c
An exercise shed seen on television. g-d, dont even talk about tha
T. she got up from the table and went to the sink where she picked up a bottle of pink and blue vitamins. want one? supposed to be better than steak. and attempted to touch her
S. I dont think Ill ever touch a daiquiri again. she gave up and sat down, this time nearer the table that supported the telephone. maybe hell call. she said to sheila
Ance. sheila nibbled on a cuticle. after last night, I thought maybe youd be through with him. I know what you mean, my g-d, he was like an octopus. hands all over the place.&
She gestured, raising her arms upwards in defense. the thing is after a while, you get tired of fighting with him, you know, and after all he didnt really do anything friday and saturday
Kind of owed it to him, you know what I mean. she started to scratch. sheila was giggling with her hand over her mouth. Ill tell you, I feel the same way, and even after a while,&q
Here she bend forward in a whisper, wanted to, and now she was laughing very loudly.
It was at this point that mr. jameison of the clarence darrow post office rang the door bell of the large colored stucco frame house. when marsha bronson opened the door, he helped her carry the
Age in. he had his yellow and green slips of paper signed and left with a fifteen cent tip that marsha had gotten out of her mothers small beige pocket book in the den. what do you think i
Sheila asked. marsha stood with her arms folded behind her back. she stared at the brown cardboard carton that sat in the middle of the living room: I dont know.
Inside the package waldo quivered with excitement as he listened to the muffled voices. sheila ran her fingernail over the masking tape that ran down the center of the carton. why dont yo
K at the return address and see who it is from? waldo felt his heart beating. he could feel the vibrating footsteps. it would be soon.
Marsha walked around the carton and read the ink-scratched label. its from waldo. that schmuck! said sheila. waldo trembled with expecta- tion. you might as well o
T, said sheila. both of them tried to flip the stable flap. ah, said marsha groaning. he must have nailed it shut. they tagged at the flap again. my god, you
A power drill to get this thing opened. they pulled again. you cant get a grip! they both stood still, breathing heavily. why dont you get the scissors, said shei
Arsha ran into the kitchen, but all she could find was a little sewing scissors. then she remembered that her father kept a collection of tools in the basement. she ran downstairs and when she c
Ack, she had a large metal cutter in her hand. this is the best I could find. she was out of breath. here, you do it. Im gonna die. she sank into a large fluffy couch an
Aled noisily. sheila tried to make a slit between the masking tape and the end of the cardboard, but the blade was too big and th
Ere was not enough room. g-ddamn this thing! she said feeling very exaspe- rated. then smiling I got an idea. what? said marsha. just watch, said
A touching her finger to her head.
Inside the package, waldo was transfixed with excitement that he could hardly breathe. his skin felt prickly from the heat and he could feel his heart beating in his throat. it would be soon. sh
Stood upright and walked around to the other side of the package. then she sank down to her knees, grasped the cutter by both hands, took a deep breath and plunged the long blade through the mid
F the package, through the middle of the masking tape, through the card- board through the cushioning and (thud) right through the center of waldo jeffers head, which split slightly and caused l
Rhythmic arcs of red to pulsate gently in the morning sun...

song performed by Velvet Underground
Added by Lucian Velea
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Pour Me Another Tequila Sheila

(Chorus)
Pour me another tequila, Sheila.
Take off that red satin dress.
'Cause I crossed the border,
And I beat the dealer for all of that gold in Juarez.
I feel like ol' Pancho Villa, Sheila,
And I've got the pesos to spend,
So pour me another tequila, Sheila.
And lay down and love me again.

No I can't tell you about it.
Don't mind the gun by my bed,
But I feel kind'a naked without it,
And it eases the fears in my head.
I never trusted in woman,
But Sheila I trust you tonight.
So pass me the salt and a lemon,
Bend down and blow out the light.

(Chorus)

Sheila I'm hearin' your heartbeat,
But I'm hearing footsteps outside.
The courtyard is crawlin' with them Federales
And Sheila, there's no place to hide,
but I don't know who could have tipped 'em,
nobody knew it but you,
but I never have trusted in woman,
Sheila, here's what I'm going to do.

(Chorus)

Yeah! Pour me another tequila,
I'm gonna put on your red satin Dress.
You put on my clothes, and you go face the dealer.
Sheila I wish you the best.
I never trusted in woman,
Sheila I trusted you tonight.
So pour me another tequila Sheila,
And I'll run for the border again.
Yeah! Pour me another tequila,
Sheila, as I ride for the border again.

poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Added by Poetry Lover
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Help Me Ronda

Well since she put me down I 've been out doin' in my head
Come in late at night and in the mornin' I just lay in bed
Well, Ronda you look so fine (look so fine)
And I know it wouldn't take much time
For you to help me Ronda
Help me get her out of my heart
Help me Ronda
Help, help me Ronda
Help me Ronda
Help, help me Ronda
Help me Ronda
Help, help me Ronda
Help me Ronda
Help, help me Ronda
Help me Ronda
Help, help me Ronda
Help me Ronda
Help, help me Ronda
Help me Ronda yeah
Get her out of my heart
She was gonna be my wife
And I was gonna be her man
But she let another guy come between us
And it ruined our plan
Well, Ronda you caught my eye (caught my eye)
And I can give you lotsa reasons why
You gotta help me Ronda
Help me get her out of my heart
Help me Ronda
Help, help me Ronda
Help me Ronda
Help, help me Ronda
Help me Ronda
Help, help me Ronda
Help me Ronda
Help, help me Ronda
Help me Ronda
Help, help me Ronda
Help me Ronda
Help, help me Ronda
Help me Ronda yeah
Get her out of my heart
Help me Ronda
Help, help me Ronda
Help me Ronda
Help, help me Ronda
Help me Ronda
Help, help me Ronda
Help me Ronda
Help, help me Ronda

[...] Read more

song performed by Beach Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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Help Me, Rhonda

Well since she put me down Ive been out doin in my head
Come in late at night and in the mornin I just lay in bed
Well, rhonda you look so fine (look so fine)
And I know it wouldnt take much time
For you to help me rhonda
Help me get her out of my heart
Help me rhonda
Help, help me rhonda
Help me rhonda
Help, help me rhonda
Help me rhonda
Help, help me rhonda
Help me rhonda
Help, help me rhonda
Help me rhonda
Help, help me rhonda
Help me rhonda
Help, help me rhonda
Help me rhonda yeah
Get her out of my heart
She was gonna be my wife
And I was gonna be her man
But she let another guy come between us
And it ruined our plan
Well, rhonda you caught my eye (caught my eye)
And I can give you lotsa reasons why
You gotta help me rhonda
Help me get her out of my heart
Help me rhonda
Help, help me rhonda
Help me rhonda
Help, help me rhonda
Help me rhonda
Help, help me rhonda
Help me rhonda
Help, help me rhonda
Help me rhonda
Help, help me rhonda
Help me rhonda
Help, help me rhonda
Help me rhonda yeah
Get her out of my heart
Help me rhonda
Help, help me rhonda
Help me rhonda
Help, help me rhonda
Help me rhonda
Help, help me rhonda
Help me rhonda
Help, help me rhonda

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song performed by Beach Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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Jimmy

Jimmy
It started out with a few misfortunes
His daddy ran off with some broad from the motown
When momma said we're leavin tomorrow
Jimmy already had his things together
So many days of thinking of the past
The girl he left behind and hangin out in the
free streets
Somehow Jimmy had survived his reflections
The broken glass in his hands, a noose before him
Said he did it before
He's gonna do it again
Give him a fix and a bottle and he won't complain
Until he's blue in the face
Jimmy's the leader of a losin' race
Hey Jimmy did you learn your lesson
You always know what you were missin'
Hey Jimmy did you solve the problem
Just a kid with no direction
Some people say it was fright that drove him
But Jimmy knows who's really scared of difference
The whipping boy won't take his beating
It only left them alone to their thinking
Of how he knew what they could never know
And he would live and learn to be himself
through his mistakes
Watch and laugh, pretend they were okay
Waiting for things to change is just another day
Said he did it before
He's gonna do it again
Give him a fix or a bottle and he won't complain
Until he's blue in the face
Jimmy's the leader of a losing race
Hey Jimmy did you learn your lesson
You always knew what you were missin'
Hey Jimmy did you solve the problem
Just a kid with no direction
Hey Jimmy don't you walk away
We'll look at life according to me
You're my life support auto biography
Hey Jimmy take a look inside
Let's take a chance, enjoy the ride
Impressions don't die
No one knew your story
Hey Jimmy did you learn you lesson
You always knew what you were missin' (Jimmy)
Hey Jimmy did you solve the problem
Just a kid with no direction (Jimmy)
Hey Jimmy did you learn your lesson
You always knew what you were missin' (Jimmy)

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song performed by 1208
Added by Lucian Velea
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Fat Person Man

Sheila
You got to get rid of dat fat person man
Send him to french guiana china or japan
Get him off of dis island
Ders no reconcilin da rumours have already spread
He dont leave dis island
He lose his head
I cant help it I just tell the truth
Norman
Now sheila I cant do that
Try and understand
Hes not just some drunk asshole
Hes my money man
Hes got banks in nebraska
And mines in alaska
His childish ways can be misread
Sheila
Ill say it one more time sir
He lose his head I cant help it,
I just tell the truth
Norman
Now lesters really harmless
Sheila
But hippolytes a threat
Norman
Whole life here in kinja
Rests on this tilson fete
I cant have a beheading
Or any blood letting
Oh sheila tell me what to do
Sheila
Stick to do dat fat person
Like you be glue
Norman
I will keep him on the beach at the barbeque
Lester
I cant help it
I just tell the truth

song performed by Jimmy Buffett
Added by Lucian Velea
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Some Account of a New Play

'The play's the thing!'-- Hamlet.

Tavistock Hotel, Nov. 1839.
Dear Charles,
-- In reply to your letter, and Fanny's,
Lord Brougham, it appears, isn't dead,-- though Queen Anne is;
'Twas a 'plot' and a 'farce'-- you hate farces, you say --
Take another 'plot,' then, viz. the plot of a Play.

The Countess of Arundel, high in degree,
As a lady possess'd of an earldom in fee,
Was imprudent enough at fifteen years of age,
A period of life when we're not over sage,
To form a liaison -- in fact, to engage
Her hand to a Hop-o'-my-thumb of a Page.
This put her Papa --
She had no Mamma --
As may well be supposed, in a deuce of a rage.

Mr. Benjamin Franklin was wont to repeat,
In his budget of proverbs, 'Stolen Kisses are sweet;'
But they have their alloy --
Fate assumed, to annoy
Miss Arundel's peace, and embitter her joy,
The equivocal shape of a fine little Boy.

When, through 'the young Stranger,' her secret took wind,
The Old Lord was neither 'to haud nor to bind.'
He bounced up and down,
And so fearful a frown
Contracted his brow, you'd have thought he'd been blind.
The young lady, they say,
Having fainted away,
Was confined to her room for the whole of that day;
While her beau -- no rare thing in the old feudal system --
Disappear'd the next morning, and nobody miss'd him.

The fact is, his Lordship, who hadn't, it seems,
Form'd the slightest idea, not ev'n in his dreams,
That the pair had been wedded according to law,
Conceived that his daughter had made a faux pas;
So he bribed at a high rate
A sort of a Pirate
To knock out the poor dear young Gentleman's brains,
And gave him a handsome douceur for his pains.
The Page thus disposed of, his Lordship now turns
His attention at once to the Lday's concerns;
And, alarm'd for the future,
Looks out for a suitor,
One not fond of raking, nor giv'n to 'the pewter,'

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poem by Richard Harris Barham
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Would you ever believe

WOULD YOU EVER believe if I called a nondescript table of teakwood; as a vivacious bird soaring high in the sky,

Would you ever believe if I called a ruffled sheet of paper; as a chunk of glittering gold,

Would you ever believe if I called a grandiloquent watch embodied with diamonds; as a lump of bedraggled stone,

Would you ever believe if I called a mountain of compacted mud; as a switchboard of pugnacious electricity,

Would you ever believe if I called a resplendent rainbow in the sky; as a broomstick with incongruous bristles,

Would you ever believe if I called a rusty canister of dilapidated iron; as a mesmerizing rose growing in the garden,

Would you ever believe if I called a pink tablet of luxury soap; as a mosquito hovering acrimoniously in the cloistered room,

Would you ever believe if I called a boat rollicking merrily on the undulating waves; as a rustic jungle spider,

Would you ever believe if I called a valley profusely embedded with snow; as an unscrupulous dog on the street,

Would you ever believe if I called a pair of luscious lips; as a disdainfully fetid shoe,

Would you ever believe if I called a fluorescent rod of light; as a jagged bush of cactus growing in the sweltering desert,

Would you ever believe if I called the blazing sun; as a pudgy bar of delectable chocolate,
Would you ever believe if I called an angular sculptured bone; as acid bubbling in a swanky bottle,

Would you ever believe if I called a scintillating oyster; as an inarticulate matchstick coated with lead,

Would you ever believe if I called a cluster of bells jingling from the ceiling; as a sordid cockroach philandering beside the lavatory seat,

Would you ever believe if I called a fruit of succulent coconut; as a dead mans morbid tooth,

Would you ever believe If I called a steaming cup of filter coffee; as gaudily colored water emanating from the street fountains,

Would you ever believe if I called the majestic statue of a revered historian; as a slab of tangy peanut butter,

Would you ever believe if I called a vibrant shirt; as a protuberant pigeon discerningly pecking its beak at grains scattered on the floor,

Would you ever believe if I called a flocculent bud of cotton; as a camouflaged lizard transgressing through wild projections of grass,

Would you ever believe if I called a photograph depicting the steep gorges; as a gutter inundated with obnoxious sewage,

Would you ever believe if I called a lanky giraffe; as a convict nefariously lurking through solitary streets of the city,

Would you ever believe if I called a pair of flamboyant sunglasses; as a weird tattoo to be adhered to the chest,

Would you ever believe if I called a chicken’s egg; as logs of sooty charcoal abundantly stashed in the colossal warehouse,

Would you ever believe if I called a biscuit replete with golden honey; as a ominously slithering reptile in the jungles,

Would you ever believe if I called a bald man possessing a profoundly tonsured scalp; as a gas balloon floating in insipid air,

[...] Read more

poem by Nikhil Parekh
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My Chinee Cook

They who say the bush is dull are not so very far astray,
For this eucalyptic cloisterdom is anything but gay;
But its uneventful dulness I contentedly could brook,
If I only could get back my lost, lamented Chinee cook.

We had tried them without number—cooks, to wit—my wife and I;
One a week, then three a fortnight, as my wife can testify;
But at last we got the right one; I may say 'twas by a fluke,
For he dropped in miscellaneous-like, that handy Chinee cook,

He found the kitchen empty, laid his swag down, and commenced;
My wife, surprised, found nothing to say anything against;
But she asked him for how much a year the work he undertook—
“Me workee for me ration,” said that noble Chinee cook.

Then right off from next to nothing such a dinner he prepared,
That the Governor I'm certain less luxuriously fared;
And he waited, too, in spotless white, with such respectful look,
And bowed his head when grace was said, that pious Chinee cook.

He did the work of man and maid—made beds and swept out rooms;
Nor cooled he in his zeal, as is the manner of new brooms:
Oh, he shed celestial brightness on the most sequestered nook,
For his mop and pail were everywhere—my cleanly Chinee cook.

We got fat upon his cooking; we were happy in those days,
For he tickled up our palates in a thousand pleasant ways.
Oh his dinners! Oh his dinners! they were fit for any duke!
Oh delectable Mongolian! Oh celestial Chinee cook!

There was nothing in creation that he didn't put to use,
And the less he got to cook with, all the more he could produce,
All nature was his kitchen range, likewise his cook'ry book—
Neither Soyer nor Meg Dod could teach that knowing Chinee cook.

And day by day upon my wife and me the mystery grew,
How his virtues were so many and his earnings were so few;
And we laid our heads together to find out by hook or crook,
The secret of the cheapness of that priceless Chinee cook.
And still the sense of mystery grew on us day by day,
Till it came to be a trouble, and we wished him well away;
But we could not find a fault in one so far above rebuke—
Ah, we didn't know the value of that valuable cook.

But one day when I was out he brought my wife a lot of things,
Turquoise earrings, opal bracelets, ruby brooches, diamond rings,

And he ran their various prices o'er as glibly as a book,
And dirt cheap, too, were the jewels of that jewel of a cook.

[...] Read more

poem by James Brunton Stephens
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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi

Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.
"We have been young, too,—come, there's greater guilt!
"Let him but decently disembroil himself,
"Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud,—
"We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch!
And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast
As if I were a phantom: now 't is—"Friend,
"Collect yourself!"—no laughing matter more—
"Counsel the Court in this extremity,
"Tell us again!"—tell that, for telling which,
I got the jocular piece of punishment,
Was sent to lounge a little in the place
Whence now of a sudden here you summon me
To take the intelligence from just—your lips!
You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most,—
That she I helped eight months since to escape
Her husband, was retaken by the same,
Three days ago, if I have seized your sense,—
(I being disallowed to interfere,
Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,
For you and law were guardians quite enough
O' the innocent, without a pert priest's help)—
And that he has butchered her accordingly,
As she foretold and as myself believed,—
And, so foretelling and believing so,
We were punished, both of us, the merry way:
Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?
Pompilia is only dying while I speak!
Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?
My masters, there's an old book, you should con
For strange adventures, applicable yet,

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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La Vie Dansante

La vie dansante
By: jimmy buffett, michael utley, will jennings
1984
[the dancing life]
They can come take it all away
Break your heart by the light of day
Drown your love in a distant bay
So lonely
See the ships heading for the rocks
See the time melting off of the clocks
Theres a light shatters all the locks
And saves me
It saves me
Thats why I wander and follow la vie dansante
On the night wind that takes me just where I want
Thats all I want la vie dansante
Why dont you wander and follow la vie dansante
On the night wind that takes you just where you want
Thats all you want la vie dansante
Miss the beat if you close your eyes
Every night wears a new disguise
And I live when a new surprise surrenders
Feel it all with a willing heart
Every stop is a place to start
If you know how to play the part with feeling
I play with feelings
Thats why I wander and follow la vie dansante
On the night wind that takes me just where I want
Thats all I want la vie dansante
Why dont you wander and follow la vie dansante
On the night wind that takes you just where you want
Thats all you want la vie dansante
Thats why we wander and follow la vie dansante
On the night wind that takes us just where we want
Thats all we want la vie dansante
Why dont you wander and follow the dancing life
On the night wind that takes you just where you want
Thats all you want la vie dansante
Thats why we wander and follow la vie dansante
On the night wind that takes us just where we want
Thats all we want la vie dansante
La la la la la la la la la la la la
La la la la la la la la la la la la
Thats all we want...
@album notes:
Back cover -
What goes around comes around say wise men in bars. any good artist feels compelled to change, if not doomed to change, and vary his art as much as he varies his life. starting from
Enter, buffett has shot off to a number of usual and unusual planets. now in riddles in the sand we see him coming home not quite on a-1a, but with the same richness of feeling that informed muc
His earlier work.
Years ago, down in riviera beach in southeast texas, I saw some cowboys ride into town on horseback for a dinner of gulf shrimp and oysters. if you were superman you could have seen key western

[...] Read more

song performed by Jimmy Buffett
Added by Lucian Velea
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XI. Guido

You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock

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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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