Quotes about georgie, page 3
April Fool
Georgie sat upon 3-leg stool
Pointed hat on pointed head
Often was the butt of ridicule
Cursed was he to be ill-bred
poem by Ray Lucero
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We were at Pye Studios for half an hour so we set the gear up and we did two tracks. A month later we found out it was selling thirty thousand copies a day.
quote by Georgie Fame
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The BBC were not playing the music that was happening on the street so we did an independent production because we knew we had an audience. Then we licensed the album to EMI.
quote by Georgie Fame
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This story's gonna grab people. It's about this guy, he's crazy about this girl, but he likes to wear dresses. Should he tell her? Should he not tell her? He's torn, Georgie. This is drama.
quote by Ed Wood
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Song For The C--N
Roi's wife of Brunswick Oëls!
Roi's wife of Brunswick Oëls!
Wot you how she came to him,
While he supinely dreamt of no ills?
Vow! but she is a canty Queen,
And well can she scare each royal orgie.-
To us she ever must be dear,
Though she's for ever cut by Georgie.-
Roi's wife, &c. Da capo.
R. et R.
poem by Charles Lamb
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Hon. Henry Bennett
It never came into my mind
Until I was ready to die
That Jenny had loved me to death, with malice of heart.
For I was seventy, she was thirty-five,
And I wore myself to a shadow trying to husband
Jenny, rosy Jenny full of the ardor of life.
For all my wisdom and grace of mind
Gave her no delight at all, in very truth,
But ever and anon she spoke of the giant strength
Of Willard Shafer, and of his wonderful feat
Of lifting a traction engine out of the ditch
One time at Georgie Kirby's.
So Jenny inherited my fortune and married Willard --
That mount of brawn! That clownish soul!
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Home Thoughts
Oh something just now must be happening there!
That suddenly and quiveringly here,
Amid the city's noises, I must think
Of mangoes leaning o'er the river's brink,
And dexterous Davie climbing high above,
The gold fruits ebon-speckled to remove,
And toss them quickly in the tangled mass
Of wis-wis twisted round the guinea grass;
And Cyril coming through the bramble-track
A prize bunch of bananas on his back;
And Georgie--none could ever dive like him--
Throwing his scanty clothes off for a swim;
And schoolboys, from Bridge-tunnel going home,
Watching the waters downward dash and foam.
This is no daytime dream, there's something in it,
Oh something's happening there this very minute!
poem by Claude McKay
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Ballade of Ancient Acts
AFTER HENLEY
Where are the wheezes they essayed
And where the smiles they made to flow?
Where's Caron's seltzer siphon laid,
A squirt from which laid Herbert low?
Where's Charlie Case's comic woe
And Georgie Cohan's nasal drawl?
The afterpiece? The olio?
Into the night go one and all.
Where are the japeries, fresh or frayed,
That Fields and Lewis used to throw?
Where is the horn that Shepherd played?
The slide trombone that Wood would blow?
Amelia Glover's l.f. toe?
The Rays and their domestic brawl?
Bert Williams with "Oh, I Don't Know?"
Into the night go one and all.
[...] Read more
poem by Franklin P. Adams
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If I Should Farewell Old Wonthaggi
If I should farewell old Wonthaggi I'll miss people that I know there
I'll miss Georgie Waters and Stella Hitchins good people like them are quite rare
And Jessica Harrison and Julie Tyrell and Jack Iversen the unsung hero of old Loch Street
One who would go out of his way for to help you people like him one always don't meet.
If I should farewell old Wonthaggi as the wanderlust is still in me
I'll miss the volcanic cliffs of Kilcunda from where one can look out on the sea
And I'll miss the hills of Archies Creek that in Summer and Autumn look brown
Those old hills one can see on clear days from the streets of Wonthaggi Town.
I'll miss Inverloch and Cape Paterson pollution and factory free
I love these old quiet coastal places they will live in my memory
And the Village of Harmers Haven Utopia on Earth it does seem
A place where one could grow old and be happy if of the quiet life one does dream.
If I should farewell old Wonthaggi I'll miss the few friends I had there
The wanderlust is stirring in me and my future I feel is elsewhere
But I will miss the coastal Countryside that surround the old coal mining Town
Of Wonthaggi in coastal South Gippsland that is no stranger to renown
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Incantation
Scene: Federal Political Arena
A darkened cave. In the middle, a cauldron, boiling.
Enter the three witches.
1ST WITCH: Thrice hath the Federal Jackass brayed.
2ND WITCH: Once the Bruce-Smith War-horse neighed.
3RD WITCH: So Georgie comes, 'tis time, 'tis time,
Around the cauldron to chant our rhyme.
1ST WITCH: In the cauldron boil and bake
Fillet of a tariff snake,
Home-made flannels -- mostly cotton,
Apples full of moths, and rotten,
Lamb that perished in the drought,
Starving stock from "furthest out",
Drops of sweat from cultivators,
Sweating to feed legislators.
Grime from a white stoker's nob,
Toiling at a nigger's job.
[...] Read more
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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