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Umina Bowling Club

There’s nothing that’s finer when you are in Umina
Than bowling right up to the friendly bowling club
There’s nothing that’s finer when you are in Umina
Than dropping in for just a drink or some good grub.

Behind the bar you’ll find our Suzy, Linda and Michelle
When you come in you’ll get a welcome and a smile as well
And if the mood should ever take you to the pokie room
There’s all the games that might just make your fortune very soon.

There’s nothing that’s finer when you are in Umina
Than bowling right up to the friendly bowling club
There’s nothing that’s finer when you are in Umina
Than dropping in for just a drink or some good grub

On Thursday nights the club is packed when bingo starts at four
And Friday concerts – there’s no extra charges at the door
Our raffles too, they need an extra special mention
Its your happiness that’s our intention.

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poem by David Keig
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Trash Bag

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poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Healthy Back Bag

animated bag of chips
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poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Bowling Shoes

Bowling Shoes
FoW
Hey now baby dont be shy
I saw you with another guy
He was short but his hair was long
He had your sunglasses on
Ba bada ba ba baah
Ba bada ba ba baah
Picked you up in a German car
He took you out to an Irish bar
You drank bar from a plastic cup
Till you were barely standin up
Ba bada ba ba baah
Ba bada ba ba baah
And now youve got some explaining to do
So come on baby wont you tell me the news
I dont know who you think youre trying to fool
But I know where youve been going so dont bother with the bowling shoes
Tuesday night you were out again
With a bunch of your stoner high school friends

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song performed by Fountains Of Wayne
Added by Lucian Velea
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Living in Bowling Green (Ghazal)

Excuse me, but my favorite color isn’t green
Even though I live in the city of Bowling Green.

In its history the people played such lively games.
On many sunny days their fun was bowling on the Green.

In his boyhood here there lived a man named Duncan Hines.
One day you might find his colored cakes in Irish green.

Oh yes, this city is the home of the car Corvette.
If it pleases you, you can own one painted blue green.

The school my son attended here was Bowling Green High.
His closest friend in French class was Emily Green.

About once a week I visit our Bowling Green Mall.
There you can plainly see its signs printed all in green.

With pollution and economy the way they are,
I am happy to see the city still going green.

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poem by Ben Gieske
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Generic Blues

I woke up this morning
Then I went back to bed
Said I woke up this morning
Then I went right back to bed
Got a funny kind of feelin like I got broken glass in my underwear
And a herd of wild pigs is trying to chew off my head
You know what Im sayin
Well I aint got not money
Im just walkin down the road
Said I aint got no money, honey
So Im just walking down this lonely old road
Well, I wish I could get me some money
But I forgot my automated teller code
I was born in a paper sack in the bottom of a sewer
I had to eat dirt clods for breakfast, my family was so poor
My daddy was a waitress, my mama sold bathroom tiles
My brothers and sisters all hated me cause I was an only child
I got the blues so bad, woo
Kinda wish I was dead
Maybe Ill blow my brains out mama

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song performed by Weird Al Yankovic
Added by Lucian Velea
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Fitration Bags

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poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Adrienne Vittadini

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poem by Caasder Fronds
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I think a new, different kind of bowling should be 'carpet bowling.' It's just like regular bowling, only the lanes are carpet instead of wood. I don't know why we should do this, but my God, we've got to try something

Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Added by Lucian Velea
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Real state

Sally getting drunk at the bowling alley then arriving at the casino passed out, can barely stand 5 dollar bets arm in arm between two people blindly pushing buttons, eats shit once I fell so she wouldn't be on the ground alone, pappy with the pinched neck, Jude, Julia, Whitney, Mustang Sally, she had two bloody marries pitcher of beer and pizza at the bowling alley, I stole bowling shoes, snaked peoples turns threw all gutters, Sally drinks 4 or 5 shots barely standing call… tells about her dad friend who everyone calls HB for Hardly Breathing... she chokes me in an elevator, bleeds from her head... all the losers crane after the drunken girl stuck like the middle reel on a money machine...

poem by Jerome Moore
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