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I ken by my cog wha milks my cow.

Scottish proverbs
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Drawing a Purple Blank Verse after Gelett BURGESS Purple Cow

DRAWING A PURPLE BLANK VERSE
Kindly refer to notes

I've never cowed to purple prose
know now I'll never write it,
for anyhow true writer knows
hand stretched finds critics bite it.

I've never wowed, and goodness knows
hacks lack the knack of versing,
won't bow, kowtow to backhand blows,
preferring role reverse_sing.

Ah, yes, I wrote on purple prose,
yet can't regret I penned it,
one far prefers rhyme's timeless flows,
no blush need rush defend it.

10 February 2009
robi03_1856_burg01_0001 PWX_IXX

Parody Gelett BURGESS The Purple Cow

Author notes

For original and variations on a theme see bekiw
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
THE PURPLE COW

I never saw a Purple Cow,
I never hope to see one,
But I can tell you anyhow,
I’d rather see than be one.

Gelett BURGESS 1866_1951
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
CONFESSION

Ah, yes! I wrote the « Purple Cow » -
I’m Sorry, now, I Wrote it,
But I can Tell you Anyhow
I’ll Kill you if you Quote it.

Gelett BURGESS 1866_1951
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
A Perfect Woman

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Purple Cow Parodies

Gelett Burgess' original poem…

A Purple Cow

I never saw a Purple Cow,
I never hope to see one;
But I can tell you, anyhow,
I'd rather see than be one.

Poem parodied in the
style of…

John Milton

Hence, vain, deluding cows.
The herd of folly, without colour bright,
How little you delight,
Or fill the Poet's mind, or songs arouse!
But, hail! thou goddess gay of feature!
Hail divinest purple creature!
Oh, Cow, thy visage is too bright
To hit the sense of human sight.
And though I'd like, just once, to see thee
I never, never, never'd be thee!

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Hail to thee, blithe spirit!
Cow thou never wert;
But in life to cheer it
Playest thy full part
In purple lines of unpremeditated art.

The pale purple colour
Melts around thy sight
Like a star, but duller,
In the broad daylight.
I'd see thee, but I would not be thee if I might.

We look before and after
At the cattle as they browse;
Our most hearty laughter
Something sad must rouse.
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of Purple Cows.

[...] Read more

poem by Carolyn Wells
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Cow

Aw, go write yer tinklin' jingle, an' yer pretty phrases mingle,
Fer the mamby-pamby girl, all fluffy frill an' shinin' silk.
Them's the sort ter fetch yer trouble, when yer tries 'em, in the double.
Blow yer beauty! Wot's the matter with the maiden 'oo kin milk?
Them there rhymers uv the wattle! An' the bardlet uv the bottle -
'Im that sings uv sparklin' wine, an' does a perish fer the beer;
An' yer slap-dash 'orsey po-it! Garn! If you blokes only know it,
You 'ave missed the single subjec' fit ter rhyme about down 'ere.
An' although I ain't a bard, with bloomin' bays upon me brow,
I kinsider that it's up ter me ter sing about The Cow.
Cow, Cow
(Though it ain't a pretty row,
It's a word that 'ipnertises me; I couldn't tell yer 'ow.)
Though I ain't a gifted rhymer,
Nor a blamed Parnassus climber,
I'm inspired ter sing a tune er two about the Blessed Cow.

0h, the cow-bells are a-tinklin', and the daisies are a twinklin'
Well, that ain't the style ersackly I intended fer to sing.
'Ark, was over music greater then the buzzin' sepy-rater,
Coinin' gaily money daily fer the - no, that's not the thing!
'Omeward comes the cows a-lowin', an' the butter-cups are blowin';
But there's better butter in the - Blarst ! That ain't the proper way
See the pretty milkmaid walkin' - aw, it ain't no use er talkin'.
Listen 'ere, I want ter tell yer this: A cow's ther thing ter pay!
Sell yer 'orses, sell yer arrers, an' yer reapers, an' yer plough;
If yer want yer land ter pay yer, sacrifice yer life ter Cow
Cow, Cow
Sittin' underneath the bough,
With a bail, an' with a pail, an' with a little stool, an' thou
Kickin' when I pull yer teat there,
Swishin' flies, the pretty creatur.
Ah, there ain't no music sweeter - money squirtin' from the Cow.

Take away the wine-cup; take it. An' the foamin' flagon, break it.
Brimmin' cups uv butter-milk'll set yer glowin' thro' an' thro';
An' the reason I'm teetotal is becos me thrifty throat'll
Jest refuse ter swaller stuff that's costin' me a precious sou.
Once I wus a sinful spender. Used ter go a roarin' bender
Used ter often spend a thruppence when ther' wasn't any need.
An' the many ways I've busted money, when I should er trusted
It ter cattle an' erconomy, 'ud cause yer 'eart ter bleed
But I'm glad, me friends, that godliness 'as made me careful now;
Tho' I lorst the thing wot's next it when I cottoned ter the Cow.
Cow, Cow
Trudin' thro' the sloppy slough.
Ah, I once despised the Jews, but I kin under-stand 'em now
When they needed elevatin',
An' ole Moses kep' 'em waitin'
Fer religi'n, they went straight 'n' sorter substichooted Cow.

[...] Read more

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Ken

YOWWW! Ha!
We look to the left and to the right
We need help but nobody's in sight
Where is the man that we all need
Well tell him he's to come and rescue me
Chorus:
Do do 'n do do 'n do dow
Do do 'n do do 'n do dow
Ken is the man that we all need
Ken is the leader of the GLC
Now head 'em up
Rope 'em in
Move 'em out
Now can't you see
That we need the leader of the GLC
Do do 'n do do 'n do dow
Do do 'n do do 'n do dow
Ken is the man that we all need
Ken is the leader of the GLC
Who is the man we all need?
(KEN!!)
Who is the funky sex machine?
(KEN!!)
Who is the leader of the GLC?
(KEN!!)
Who is the man we all need?
(KEN!!)
Now head 'em up
Rope 'em in
Move 'em out
(KEN!!)
Can't you see
That we need ah-ah-ah-ah-ah
Do do 'n do do 'n do dow
Do do 'n do do 'n do dow
Ken is the man that we all need
Ken is the WAHWHAYEAYEAYEAYEA!!!!
Who is the man we all need?
(KEN!)
(KEN!)
Do do 'n do do 'n do dow
Do do 'n do do 'n do dow
Ken is the man that we all need
Ken is the leader of the GLC!!

song performed by Kate Bush
Added by Lucian Velea
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100 STD's 10,000 MTD's

There are STD's, sexually transmitted diseases.
and then there are MTD's, meat transmitted diseases.

The latter take a lot more lives.

*********

In Animal Flesh: Blood Sweat Tears as well as Carcinogens Cholesterol Colon Bacteria

Animal products kill more people annually in the US than
tobacco, alcohol, traffic accidents, war, domestic violence,
guns, and drugs combined. USAMRID wrote that consumption of pig flesh caused the world's most lethal pandemic in WW1,
euphemistically called flu. Anthrax
used to be called wool sorters'
disease. Smallpox used to be called
cow pox or kine pox because of
its origin in animal flesh.
.

WHAT'S IN A BURGER? BLOOD SWEAT AND TEARS (AS WELL AS BIOTERRORISM)

POISONS IN ANIMAL AND FISH FLESH... A PARTIAL LIST

a partial list in alphabetical order

acidification diseases
addiction (to trioxypurines)
adrenalin (secreted by terrorized
animals before and during slaughter)

ANTIBIOTICS (too many to list) (crowded factory farm animals standing in their own feces are often infected)

BACTERIA
creiophilic bacteria survive
the freezing of animal flesh
thermophilic bacteria survive
the baking boiling and roasting

bacteriophages (viruses FDA allows to
be injected)
blood
colon bacteria.. euphemistically
called ecoli animals defecate
all over themselves in terror
John Harvey Kellogg MD studied
the exponential rate into the billions

BSE DISEASES, PRIONS IN SPECIES FROM GELATIN (JELLO ETC)
Mad Chicken

[...] Read more

poem by O. Anna Niemus
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The Mother's Lesson

Come hither an' sit on my knee, Willie,
Come hither an' sit on my knee,
An' list while I tell how your brave brither fell,
Fechtin' for you an' for me:
Fechtin' for you an' for me, Willie,
Wi' his guid sword in his han'.
Hech, but ye'll be a brave man, Willie,
Hech, but ye'll be a brave man!

Ye min' o' your ain brither dear, Willie,
Ye min' o' your ain brither dear,
How he pettled ye aye wi' his pliskies an' play,
An' was aye sae cantie o' cheer:
Aye sae cantie o' cheer, Willie,
As he steppit sae tall an' sae gran',
Hech, but ye'll be a brave man, Willie,
Hech, but ye'll be a brave man.

D'ye min' when the bull had ye doun, Willie,
D'ye min' when the bull had ye doun?
D'ye min' wha grippit ye fra the big bull,
D'ye min' o' his muckle red woun'?
D'ye min' o' his muckle red woun', Willie,
D'ye min' how the bluid doun ran?
Hech, but ye'll be a brave man, Willie,
Hech, but ye'll be a brave man.

D'ye min' when we a' wanted bread, Willie,
the year when we a' wanted bread?
How he smiled when he saw the het parritch an' a',
An' gaed cauld an' toom to his bed:
Gaed awa' toom to his bed, Willie,
For the love o' wee Willie an' Nan?
Hech, but ye'll be a brave man, Willie,
Hech, but ye'll be a brave man!

Next simmer was bright but an' ben, Willie,
Next simmer was bright but an' ben,
When there cam a gran' cry like a win' strang an' high
By loch, an' mountain, an' glen:
By loch, an' mountain, an' glen, Willie,
The cry o' a far forrin lan',
An' up loupit ilka brave man, Willie,
Up loupit ilka brave man.

[...] Read more

poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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The Brigs of Ayr (Shorter version)

Inscribed to John Ballantine, Esq., Ayr.

The simple Bard, rough at the rustic plough,
Learning his tuneful trade from ev'ry bough;
The chanting linnet, or the mellow thrush,
Hailing the setting sun, sweet, in the green thorn bush;
The soaring lark, the perching red-breast shrill,
Or deep-ton'd plovers grey, wild-whistling o'er the hill;
Shall he-nurst in the peasant's lowly shed,
To hardy independence bravely bred,
By early poverty to hardship steel'd.
And train'd to arms in stern Misfortune's field —
Shall he be guilty of their hireling crimes,
The servile, mercenary Swiss of rhymes?
Or labour hard the panegyric close,
With all the venal soul of dedicating prose?
No! though his artless strains he rudely sings,
And throws his hand uncouthly o'er the strings,
He glows with all the spirit of the Bard,
Fame, honest fame, his great, his dear reward.
Still, if some patron's gen'rous care he trace,
Skill'd in the secret, to bestow with grace;
When Ballantine befriends his humble name,
And hands the rustic stranger up to fame,
With heartfelt throes his grateful bosom swells,
The godlike bliss, to give, alone excels.

'Twas when the stacks get on their winter hap,
And thack and rape secure the toil-won crap;
Potatoe-bings are snugged up frae skaith
O' coming Winter's biting, frosty breath;
The bees, rejoicing o'er their summer toils,
Unnumber'd buds an' flow'rs' delicious spoils,
Seal'd up with frugal care in massive waxen piles,
Are doom'd by Man, that tyrant o'er the weak,
The death o' devils, smoor'd wi' brimstone reek:
The thundering guns are heard on ev'ry side,
The wounded coveys, reeling, scatter wide;
The feather'd field-mates, bound by Nature's tie,
Sires, mothers, children, in one carnage lie:
(What warm, poetic heart but inly bleeds,
And execrates man's savage, ruthless deeds!)
Nae mair the flow'r in field or meadow springs,
Nae mair the grove with airy concert rings,
Except perhaps the Robin's whistling glee,
Proud o' the height o' some bit half-lang tree:
The hoary morns precede the sunny days,
Mild, calm, serene, wide spreads the noontide blaze,
While thick the gosamour waves wanton in the rays.

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Burns (1786)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Brigs of Ayr (Full version)

Inscribed to John Ballantine, Esq., Ayr.

Sir, think not with a mercenary view
Some servile Sycophant approaches you.
To you my Muse would sing these simple lays,
To you my heart its grateful homage pays,
I feel the weight of all your kindness past,
But thank you not as wishing it to last;
Scorn'd be the wretch whose earth-born grov'lling soul
Would in his ledger-hopes his Friends enroll.
Tho' I, a lowly, nameless, rustic Bard,
Who ne'er must hope your goodness to reward,
Yet man to man, Sir, let us fairly meet,
And like masonic Level, equal greet.
How poor the balance! ev'n what Monarch's plan,
Between two noble creatures such as Man.
That to your Friendship I am strongly tied
I still shall own it, Sir, with grateful pride,
When haply roaring seas between us tumble wide.

Or if among so many cent'ries waste,
Thro' the long vista of dark ages past,
Some much-lov'd honor'd name a radiance cast,
Perhaps some Patriot of distinguish'd worth,
I'll match him if My Lord will please step forth.
Or Gentleman and Citizen combine,
And I shall shew his peer in Ballantine:
Tho' honest men were parcell'd out for sale,
He might be shown a sample for the hale.

* * *

The simple Bard, rough at the rustic plough,
Learning his tuneful trade from ev'ry bough;
The chanting linnet, or the mellow thrush,
Hailing the setting sun, sweet, in the green thorn bush;
The soaring lark, the perching red-breast shrill,
Or deep-ton'd plovers grey, wild-whistling o'er the hill;
Shall he-nurst in the peasant's lowly shed,
To hardy independence bravely bred,
By early poverty to hardship steel'd.
And train'd to arms in stern Misfortune's field —
Shall he be guilty of their hireling crimes,
The servile, mercenary Swiss of rhymes?
Or labour hard the panegyric close,
With all the venal soul of dedicating prose?
No! though his artless strains he rudely sings,
And throws his hand uncouthly o'er the strings,
He glows with all the spirit of the Bard,
Fame, honest fame, his great, his dear reward.

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Burns (1786)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Hootnanny

(feat. Justin Timberlake)
[Justin:]
I could go number one ten times
Pretty girls that like my rhymes
You can say Bubba ain't gonna shine
Guess wha, wha, don't really give a hootnanny
I could go number one ten times
Pretty girls that like my rhymes
You can say Bubba ain't gonna shine
Guess wha, wha, don't really give a hootnanny
[Bubba:]
Now I done banged a heap of Betties in various modes of transport
'N told them as they exit be sure that they close the damn door
The quiet country types is usually those I'm scared for ??
Some scared at first, but usually those demand more
Really ain't conceited, I just call myself the cutterbug
A horny little parasite that all the women love to love
Tell you what it is today, I ain't concerned with what it was
Bubba fixin' to get it done, I put that on my brother ??
Hear them in the closet, in the kitchen, justa whisperin'
Bubba so psst psst knowing that I'm listening
I ain't gotta chain, boy my peck[?] is all that's glistenin'
Whachu steamin' on folk, y'all ain't even disciplined
I ain't leaving nothin', this the house me and my people built
Huggin' me and dappin' me, buddy I can see your guilt
It's cold when you're wrong and you lookin' like you need a quilt
Y'all matter less everytime this margarita tilt
[Chorus:]
I could go number one ten times
Pretty girls that like my rhymes
You can say Bubba ain't gonna shine
Guess wha, wha, don't really give a hootnanny
I could go number one ten times
Pretty girls that like my rhymes
You can say Bubba ain't gonna shine
Guess wha, wha, don't really give a hootnanny
A lot of y'all was thinkin' that Bubba would

song performed by Bubba Sparxxx
Added by Lucian Velea
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Wha, Wha, What

I was hangin, at the club when, I saw you roll in, thinkin how I can.
Make my intro, little duction,
And thats when I decided to stick around and bump it.
I was schemin, I was ooh,
Thinkin how I could ditch my crew too,
Meet ya outside, jump in my ride,
For a piece of paradise.
[chorus:]
How about a little bit of wha, wha, what?
What do you say you give me some of the unh huh?
Baby if youre feelin me make a move,
Cos I just wanna get wit you.
How about a little bit of ooh, ooh, ooh.
What do you say you give me some of that (wooh),
Baby if youre feelin me holler boo,
Cos I just wanna wha, wha, what with you
I was chillin, with the fellas,
Keepin it cool cause I knew they were jealous.
So I freestyled, yeah I was flowin,
Sayin all the little things I thought would get you going.
Well I heard that, you better step back,
If youre not prepared to put you money where your mouths at,
What you saying cos I aint playin,
I dont got all night, and times wastin.
[chorus: (x2)]
[rap by: phantom]
The way youre lookin sweetheart has got me hot and heated,
I can really see it that you really need it,
So if youre thinkin what Im think then shorty lets go,
Backseat of my ride, we can sing an episode.
So ma,
Ditch your friends, Ill ditch my mens,
Were on a late night creep so we can crush in the benz,
I know you doubt me when I talk, but Ill walk it mommy,
When I get finished with you,
Youre gonna be callin me poppy.
[chorus:]
How about a little bit of wha, wha, what?
What do you say you give me some of the unh huh?
Baby if youre feelin me make a move,
Cos I just wanna wha, wha, what wit you..

song performed by Velvet Empire
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Battle Of Harlaw--Evergreen Version

Frae Dunidier as I cam throuch,
Doun by the hill of Banochie,
Allangst the lands of Garioch.
Grit pitie was to heir and se
The noys and dulesum hermonie,
That evir that dreiry day did daw!
Cryand the corynoch on hie,
Alas! alas! for the Harlaw.

I marvlit what the matter meant;
All folks were in a fiery fariy:
I wist nocht wha was fae or freind,
Yet quietly I did me carrie.
But sen the days of auld King Hairy,
Sic slauchter was not hard nor sene,
And thair I had nae tyme to tairy,
For bissiness in Aberdene.

Thus as I walkit on the way,
To Inverury as I went,
I met a man, and bad him stay,
Requeisting him to mak me quaint
Of the beginning and the event
That happenit thair at the Harlaw;
Then he entreited me to tak tent,
And he the truth sould to me schaw.

Grit Donald of the Ysles did claim
Unto the lands of Ross sum richt,
And to the governour he came,
Them for to haif, gif that he micht,
Wha saw his interest was but slicht,
And thairfore answerit with disdain.
He hastit hame baith day and nicht,
And sent nae bodward back again.

But Donald richt impatient
Of that answer Duke Robert gaif,
He vow'd to God Omniyotent,
All the hale lands of Ross to half,
Or ells be graithed in his graif:
He wald not quat his richt for nocht,
Nor be abusit like a slaif;
That bargin sould be deirly bocht.

Then haistylie he did command
That all his weir-men should convene;
Ilk an well harnisit frae hand,
To melt and heir what he did mein.
He waxit wrath and vowit tein;

[...] Read more

poem by Andrew Lang
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Seasonable Retour-Knell

SEASONABLE RETOUR KNELL
Variations on a theme...
SEASONABLE ROUND ROBIN ROLE REVERSALS

Author notes

A mirrored Retourne may not only be read either from first line to last or from last to first as seen in the mirrors, but also by inverting the first and second phrase of each line, either rhyming AAAA or ABAB for each verse. thus the number of variations could be multiplied several times.- two variations on the theme have been included here but could have been extended as in SEASONABLE ROUND ROBIN ROLE REVERSALS robi03_0069_robi03_0000

In respect of SEASONABLE ROUND ROBIN ROLE REVERSALS
This composition has sought to explore linguistic potential. Notes and the initial version are placed before rather than after the poem.
Six variations on a theme have been selected out of a significant number of mathematical possibilities using THE SAME TEXT and a reverse mirror for each version. Mirrors repeat the seasons with the lines in reverse order.

For the second roll the first four syllables of each line are reversed, and sense is retained both in the normal order of seasons and the reversed order as well... The 3rd and 4th variations offer ABAB rhyme schemes retaining the original text. The 5th and 6th variations modify the text into rhyming couplets.

Given the linguistical structure of this symphonic composition the score could be read in inversing each and every line and each and every hemistitch. There are minor punctuation differences between versions.

One could probably attain sonnet status for each of the four seasons and through partioning in 3 groups of 4 syllables extend the possibilites ad vitam.

Seasonable Round Robin Roll Reversals
robi03_0069_robi03_0000 QXX_DNZ
Seasonable Retour-Knell
robi03_0070_robi03_0069 QXX_NXX
26 March 1975 rewritten 20070123
lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll lllllllllllllllllll
For previous version see below
_______________________________________
SPRING SUMMER

Life is at ease Young lovers long
Land under plough; To hold their dear;
Whispering trees, Dewdrops among,
Answering cow. Bold, know no fear.

Blossom, the bees, Life full of song,
Burgeoning bough; Cloudless and clear;
Soft-scented breeze, Days fair and long,
Spring warms life now. Summer sends cheer.

AUTUMN WINTER

Each leaf decays, Harvested sheaves
Each life must bow; And honeyed hives;
Our salad days Trees stripped of leaves,
Are ending now. Jack Frost has knives.

Fruit heavy lays Time, Prince of thieves,
Bending the bough, - Onward he drives,

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Sodger's Lassie

A'the toun is to the doun
Puin' o' the blaeberrie.
Ab's gane, Rab's gane,
Aggie's gane, Maggie's gane,
A' the toun is to the doun,
An's left the house to wae and me.

Heigho the blaeberrie!
Wha'll hae a blaeberrie?
Ah, to min' o' auld lang syne,
Puin' o' the blaeberrie!

Sodger Tam, he cam an' cam,
Puin' o' the blaeberrie;
Still I went, an' still I bent,
Puin' o' the blaeberrie.

Berries high, an' berries low,
Heigho the blaeberrie!
Tam maun come where berries grow,
Puin' o' the blaeberrie.

Heigho the blaeberrie!
Wha'll hae a blaeberrie?
Ah, to min' o' auld lang syne,
Puin' o' the blaeberrie!

Never ance I looked at Tam,
Heigho the blaeberrie!
Weel I kent him when he cam,
Puin' o' the blaeberrie.

Baith our faces to the groun',
Puin' o' the blaeberrie,
Tam cam near without a soun',
Heigho the blaeberrie!

Wow! but we were near, I ween,
Puin' o' the blaeberrie!
A' the air was warm between,
Heigho the blaeberrie!

Could a lassie think o' ill,
Puin' o' the blaeberrie?

[...] Read more

poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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Biznite

Biznite... Biznite...
Nothing but it

I'm dippin' in a black milleny benny sittin on twentys
Top off when the city's windy me and pretty Cindy
She dressed up in pretty Fendi and she sippin remy
I'm Iceburg nuttin but whenny all the way to my tinny
I'm hotter than a semi' cause this girl she
and plus my head is spinnin from drinkin this fifth of Henney.
I stop at any deli cause this freakin with her penny
and aint no tellin how many she umm already been in.
We get inside the room and she gigglin plain grinnin
Slowly the lights dimmin and I'm slippin on my jimmy
I'm feelin with her titties this is only the beginnin
I stick it in her kitty now she screamin come on gimme
I'm flippin this chick over and I caught her slowly bendin
I'm hittin got her twistin this is my ninny you hear me
And when its time to quit I got her soakin wet and drippin
She asked me for a kiss ah... .

[CHORUS]
Biznite is you trippin
Biznite is you trippin
What
Biznite is you trippin
What
Biznite is you trippin
He he he Wha..
You nothin but a sack chasin cock chasin biznite
Your never gonna amount to anythin but a biznite
cuz all I wanna do is hit it from... I don't even wanna talk
if your baby come born with braids I aint the pa
nope I aint the pa
hell no I aint the pa
no I aint the pa
hell no I aint the pa
nope I aint the pa
hell no I aint the pa
if your baby come out saying wha.. I aint the pa

I ride up in a Porshe Boxter see this fox her name was Tasha
I got her when I stopped her at McDonalds with her partner
I jocked the way she rocked her lil Versasce and her Prada
I'm Iceberg (?? ??? ??)
I jot her my phone number later on gave me a holla
I popped up by her mamas so her nigga wont know nada
She took thirty minutes play me like a some kinda coward
Now hopped up in my car and started talkin bout her doctor
She said she started ridin it in her babys fathers Honda
She wish that he would trade it in and cop a brand new Mazda

[...] Read more

song performed by Lil' Wayne from Lights Out
Added by Lucian Velea
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Cog in the machine

I'm a cog in the machine
A machine fuelled
By indifference and greed
Going nowhere
But moving the whole

I turn as I'm told
I'm young but already old
I don't question-I do
Must conform
Be a part of this block
That only starts
And never stops
Without going forward
Serving my sentence:
Life inside a clock

Time is running out…
Tic-Toc
Tic-Toc

I'm a cog in the machine
Spinning on my axis
Riveted on the axle
Of a psychotic vision

I fit the mould
My life already sold
Part of the mechanical dream
That isn't my own
Surrounded but alone
In the midst of a mindless flock
No sentience
In a world
Without conscience
Time is running out…
Tic-Toc
Tic-Toc

I'm a cog in the machine
Spinning on my axis
Going nowhere
But moving the whole

Destined to be worn
Since the day I was born
Knowing that what I am
Isn't greater than the whole
Where Proximity
Has no intimacy

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poem by Ronberge
Added by Poetry Lover
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Jamie Telfer

It fell about the Martinmas tyde,
When our Border steeds get corn and hay
The captain of Bewcastle hath bound him to ryde,
And he's ower to Tividale to drive a prey.

The first ae guide that they met wi',
It was high up Hardhaughswire;
The second guide that we met wi',
It was laigh down in Borthwick water.

'What tidings, what tidings, my trusty guide?'
'Nae tidings, nae tidings, I hae to thee;
But, gin ye'll gae to the fair Dodhead,
Mony a cow's cauf I'll let thee see.'

And whan they cam to the fair Dodhead,
Right hastily they clam the peel;
They loosed the kye out, ane and a',
And ranshackled the house right weel.

Now Jamie Telfer's heart was sair,
The tear aye rowing in his e'e;
He pled wi' the captain to hae his gear,
Or else revenged he wad be.

The captain turned him round and leugh;
Said--'Man, there's naething in thy house,
But ae auld sword without a sheath,
That hardly now wad fell a mouse!'

The sun was na up, but the moon was down,
It was the gryming o' a new fa'n snaw,
Jamie Telfer has run three myles a-foot,
Between the Dodhead and the Stobs's Ha'

And whan he cam to the fair tower yate,
He shouted loud, and cried weel hie,
Till out bespak auld Gibby Elliot--
'Wha's this that brings the fraye to me?'

'It's I, Jamie Telfer o' the fair Dodhead,
And a harried man I think I be!
There's naething left at the fair Dodhead,
But a waefu' wife and bairnies three.

'Gae seek your succour at Branksome Ha'.
For succour ye'se get nane frae me!
Gae seek your succour where ye paid black-mail,
For, man! ye ne'er paid money to me.'

[...] Read more

poem by Andrew Lang
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Ugly Irl

Ken: Wanna go for a ride
Barbie: Sure Ken
Ken: Well forget it
Barbie:
Im and ugly girl,
My face makes you hurl,
Sad i have it,
I should fag it,
Acne everywhere,
Unwanted facial hair,
Im a realation,
To Frankinstiens creation.
Ken:
Your so ugly,
You disgust me.
Barbie:
Im a bad homely girl,
All alone in the wolrd,
Im as flat as a board,
Thin and lanky,
Ken:
Your a dog and a troll,
Were you hit by a train,
Wont go near you cos your breath is skanky.
Barbie:
Dont get touched,
Im afraid,
Cos guys say,
"A man i saw."
Im and ugly girl,
My face makes you hurl,
Sad i have it,
I should fag it,
Acne everywhere,
Unwanted facial hair,
Im a realation,
To Frankinstiens creation.
Ken:
Your so ugly,
You disgust me.
Barbie:
Boo Hoo Hoo Yeah
Ken:
Your so ugly,
You disgust me.
Oh Ooh Oh Ooh
Barbie:
Oh, lets go out and have some fun!
Ken:
Im sorry but your to damn ugly!

[...] Read more

song performed by Weird Al Yankovic
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Lass of Lochroyan

'O WHA will shoe my bonny foot?
   And wha will glove my hand?
And wha will bind my middle jimp
   Wi' a lang, lang linen band?

'O wha will kame my yellow hair,
   With a haw bayberry kame?
And wha will be my babe's father
   Till Gregory come hame?'

'They father, he will shoe thy foot,
   Thy brother will glove thy hand,
Thy mither will bind thy middle jimp
   Wi' a lang, lang linen band.

'Thy sister will kame thy yellow hair,
   Wi' a haw bayberry kame;
The Almighty will be thy babe's father
   Till Gregory come hame.'

'And wha will build a bonny ship,
   And set it on the sea?
For I will go to seek my love,
   My ain love Gregory.'

Up then spak her father dear,
   A wafu' man was he;
'And I will build a bonny ship,
   And set her on the sea.

'And I will build a bonny ship,
   And set her on the sea,
And ye sal gae and seek your love,
   Your ain love Gregory.'

Then he 's gart build a bonny ship,
   And set it on the sea,
Wi' four-and-twenty mariners,
   To bear her company.

O he 's gart build a bonny ship,
   To sail on the salt sea;
The mast was o' the beaten gold,
   The sails o' cramoisie.

The sides were o' the gude stout aik,
   The deck o' mountain pine,
The anchor o' the silver shene,
   The ropes o' silken twine.

[...] Read more

poem by Anonymous
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What Is This?

This is Everlast X6...Step up while I inject an overdose of intalect
an overload of my vibrations better yet a new sensation I was lost but
then he found me no coruption dissed around me I was taken to a
higher...level of funkdifia where souls of men were burned they were
taught but did not learn about the ricious laws of God who threw the
seeds over the side taken roots and tryin' to grow the process might
be slow please stay with my questionwhat is this X5...[record scratch]
Wha wha what wha what is thi wha what is this? X2...Not speakin' on my
physical, mental or my horror I'm speaking on my soul for the bird
would beat ya whore! There's no such thing as love of your life, it's
the hands of the God so don't treat his ricious laws with blatant
disregard here is what you must do to follow the Lords path here is
what you have to do...do into each of your brothers as you have done
to you this golden rule is all you need and you'll rewarded the man
that don't will pay the price and believe me you can't afford it this
is Everlast what is this? This is Everlast X3 [record scratch] wha
what wha what is is thi this? This is Everlast...This is for the one
two war of over who's god is the right one could it be the black one?
The asian one, or could it be the white one? The answer to the
question isn't contreversal there is only one god and his love is
universal! If you sit in great redemption all you need to do is ask
him then you will be ready for a life that is Everlasting, so take key
to the word's I'm saying rather good book can get hip too! The
teachings of the holy coral because this is Everlast X5...What is
this? X5...WHAT IS THIS? X4...WHO IS THIS? X2...WHAT IS THIS

song performed by Everlast
Added by Lucian Velea
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Clint Eastwood

Clint Eastwood (Phi Life Cypher [Si Phili]
Yo. Yo.
'Cause I'm this, Gorillaz from the mist lyricist and my thoughts be twisted
I spit the wickedest rhymes from a time that's never existed
My futuristic linguistics turn fools into statistics
I'm a lyrical misfit with the sadistic characteristics
I perform murderous acts on my tracks with a single breath
and if a boy wanna test, then I be stampin' upon his chest
Done makin' a mess - Not a man could concieve the weed I'm consumin'
and I transform from my cartoon pseudonym, turn to a human
I spit words from my mouth that be turnin' you inside out
and I tie knots in intestines just like I'm a boy scout
that's workin' 'em out - Now rearrangin' your whole skeletal structure
then I find some nine inch nails to perform some accupuncture
When I punch ya, I rupture one of your rib cage in a rage
and I turn you into a cartoon toon and erase the page
I take you back to the Stone Age with Barney and Fred Flinstone
Got Dino to take a machinos and then forage in a live home
[Life]
I'ma take off like a jet pack with the get back, rather step back
I'ma make the crowd react and nod they heads until they neck snap
Life conflict rap while riding a skateboard and doin' a tic-tac
and leave your head in a spin like servin' on turn table skid mats
I'm a concrete lion, big cat - These are real talk, not big-chat
Did ya get that 'cause I ain't no small timer - I rhyme on big tracks
Now feel the vise I create - This heavyweight, I'm a rap to detonate
and demonstrate how I generate lyrics that supernaturally levitate
to the top - My lyrics are skeletons - Accelerate and leave you panicin'
Take the ground from beneath your feet, leave you Skywalk-in' like Anakin
I'm sharper than the tips of Zulu spears and Olympic javelins
My style is totally buck wild and most definitely happenin'
To your brains I be tappin' in, to computers I be hackin' in
To me, I be out of this world like aliens who were time travelin'
I'm babblin' in the Fists of Fury technique when I speak
Forget Karate Kid and these wooden blocks, I chop from concrete
Concrete, concrete, concrete!
Wha-wha-wha-wha-wha-wha!
[Si Phili]
I been stoned; ever since the days of creation, I've been red
I'm a mad dred, causin' so much havoc in Russel's head
My lyricism is just like an aneurysm inside his brain
He plays the beat in a trance and he's never feeling no pain
I could never be a racist because I posess so many faces
I'm one of those beat-up bad wit' bags and a pair of braces
with lines longer than laces - I'm gracin' you with my presence
The lyrics went flippin', makin' ya bubble like effervescence
I pulverize and bamboozle, shake numb skulls like a boodle
I smashed the top of your head with a guitar I borrowed from Noodle
I'm as animated as Japanese animes causin' callamities
Some serious savory from my roarous rhymes of reality

[...] Read more

song performed by Gorillaz
Added by Lucian Velea
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