Smooth Criminals
Cast: Ernie Cursio, Mundana Ess-Haghabadi
trailer for Smooth Criminals, directed by Wolfgang Muchow (2009)
Added by Mihai Ionescu
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Tommys Holiday Camp
Uncle ernie:
Uncle ernie:
Good morning campers!
Good morning campers!
Im your uncle ernie
Im your uncle ernie
And Ill welcome you to tommys holiday camp
And Ill welcome you to tommys holiday camp
The camp with the difference
The camp with the difference
Nevermind the weather
Nevermind the weather
When you come to tommys
When you come to tommys
The holidays forever
The holidays forever
song performed by Who
Added by Lucian Velea
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Fiddle About
Uncle ernie:
Uncle ernie:
Im your wicked uncle ernie
Im your wicked uncle ernie
Im glad you wont see or hear me
Im glad you wont see or hear me
As I fiddle about
As I fiddle about
Fiddle about
Fiddle about
Fiddle about !
Fiddle about !
Your mother left me here to mind you
Your mother left me here to mind you
Now Im doing what I want to
Now Im doing what I want to
Fiddling about
Fiddling about
Fiddling about
Fiddling about
Fiddle about!
Fiddle about!
Down with the bedclothes
Down with the bedclothes
Up with the nightshirt!
Up with the nightshirt!
Fiddle about
Fiddle about
Fiddle about
Fiddle about
Fiddle about !
Fiddle about !
You wont shout as I fiddle about
You wont shout as I fiddle about
Fiddle about
Fiddle about
Fiddle about
Fiddle about
Fiddle about !
Fiddle about !
Fiddle, fiddle, fiddle.
Fiddle, fiddle, fiddle.
song performed by Who
Added by Lucian Velea
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Ernie Pyle
I wish I had a simple style
In writing verse,
As in his prose had Ernie Pyle,
So true and terse;
Springing so forthright from the heart
With guileless art.
I wish I could put back a dram
As Ernie could;
I wish that I could cuss and damn
As soldier should;
And fain with every verse would I
Ernie outvie.
Alas! I cannot claim his high
Humanity;
Nor emulate his pungent, dry
Profanity;
Nor share his love of common folk
Who bear life's yolk.
Oh Ernie, who on earth I knew
In war and wine,
Though frail of fame, in soul how you
Were pure and fine!
I'm proud that once when we were plastered
You called me 'bastard.'
poem by Robert William Service
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Wings of destiny
I
Ask any parabat that jumped at Cassinga
and he would tell you
that destiny has wings.
While facing a battalion of
Cuban tanks and armoured cars,
out of the blue and as if by magic
a Buccaneer appeared.
There was nothing more beautiful
than to see that jet
making self-sacrificing dives,
before it flew off to disappear
into the blue sky,
but let me tell that heroic story
as I know it.
II
Coming back from a bombing raid on Cassinga
the next target of Captain Dries Marais was
the Swapo camp at Chetequera
and he insisted
on arming the Buccaneer bomber,
with armour penetrating rockets
in addition to the standard
high explosive rockets.
Andries Marais himself
couldn’t explain the reason
for the irregular request,
but kept on insisting
that every third rocket
should be armour piercing.
Even navigator Ernie Harvey
was perplexed with this request
and they were tense,
while preparing for
the strike mission.
The Buccaneer took of
and in a short while
crossed the Angolan border
and just when Ernie Harvey
were going to check in
with Tactical headquarters
things went mad
[...] Read more
poem by Gert Strydom
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Roll em Up
Written by: vanilla ice, zero, rod johnson, darryl delite
Allamby
Produced by: vanilla ice & zero.
Published by: ice baby music, dj zero music, bmi
Mix by: vanilla ice
Lead guitar: andy timmons
Synchclavier engineer: robert wechsler
Recorded & mixed at luminous studios, inc.
Roll em up roll up the hooty mac, rollem up
Rol em up, rollem up rollem up.....
I need some herbs and spices,
So I can feel nices,
The breeze, coolin like a summertree.
Cuz its the i-c-e and you know I got the feel it.
I score it, and I aint gotta steal it.
So brang on the sack thats phat,
Ya know
I love my is izm and the 1.5,
Cuz I get em.
Everytime I get a little hit of tha hummm
The skunk, and the funk feels good to my lungs.
Fire, fire, the izm is my desire,
And I need to get it quick cause its callin me.
Come and roll me up please i-c-e,
Light the hooty mac, so we can start the par-ty.
You know I smoke good stuff, so go and get the bong,
Gong - diddlee bong, once again you know its on - huh,
You feel it, you feel it, you want it, you want it
Roll it, roll it, lick it - now hit it.
You see everytime I wake up, I got to clear my head,
But I clear it with ? ess, cause it goes with my dreds.
And I cant stand to run out, cause if you do I get illy,
Never get silly, so pass me the philly.
Blunt, and no I dnt front like zero,
Who wears a chronic hat but always says no,
But I say yes, and I get it off my chest.
Bring the bo, bring the skunk, and I hit the phunky ? ess,
Check it, you aint gotta test it,
Its the mad bomb and Ive already blessed it.
Checka 1-2, and tell me how ya do,
When you hear the dirty budda when the buzz comes through.
I aint tryin to front, cause Im gettin what I want.
Take a chunk of phunk, leave the sack in my trunk.
Yeh, you feel it, you feel it, you want it, you want it
Roll it, roll it, lick it - now hit it.
Roll em up the hooty mac, that what I said
Now tell me how you feelin.
Dont it feel good enought to jump and touch the ceiling.
Its on, its on, I feel it comin on.
Its good to the bone, cause the buzz is real strong.
[...] Read more
song performed by Vanilla Ice
Added by Lucian Velea
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Roll em Up
Written by: vanilla ice, zero, rod johnson, darryl delite
Allamby
Produced by: vanilla ice & zero.
Published by: ice baby music, dj zero music, bmi
Mix by: vanilla ice
Lead guitar: andy timmons
Synchclavier engineer: robert wechsler
Recorded & mixed at luminous studios, inc.
Roll em up roll up the hooty mac, rollem up
Rol em up, rollem up rollem up.....
I need some herbs and spices,
So I can feel nices,
The breeze, coolin like a summertree.
Cuz its the i-c-e and you know I got the feel it.
I score it, and I aint gotta steal it.
So brang on the sack thats phat,
Ya know
I love my is izm and the 1.5,
Cuz I get em.
Everytime I get a little hit of tha hummm
The skunk, and the funk feels good to my lungs.
Fire, fire, the izm is my desire,
And I need to get it quick cause its callin me.
Come and roll me up please i-c-e,
Light the hooty mac, so we can start the par-ty.
You know I smoke good stuff, so go and get the bong,
Gong - diddlee bong, once again you know its on - huh,
You feel it, you feel it, you want it, you want it
Roll it, roll it, lick it - now hit it.
You see everytime I wake up, I got to clear my head,
But I clear it with ? ess, cause it goes with my dreds.
And I cant stand to run out, cause if you do I get illy,
Never get silly, so pass me the philly.
Blunt, and no I dnt front like zero,
Who wears a chronic hat but always says no,
But I say yes, and I get it off my chest.
Bring the bo, bring the skunk, and I hit the phunky ? ess,
Check it, you aint gotta test it,
Its the mad bomb and Ive already blessed it.
Checka 1-2, and tell me how ya do,
When you hear the dirty budda when the buzz comes through.
I aint tryin to front, cause Im gettin what I want.
Take a chunk of phunk, leave the sack in my trunk.
Yeh, you feel it, you feel it, you want it, you want it
Roll it, roll it, lick it - now hit it.
Roll em up the hooty mac, that what I said
Now tell me how you feelin.
Dont it feel good enought to jump and touch the ceiling.
Its on, its on, I feel it comin on.
Its good to the bone, cause the buzz is real strong.
[...] Read more
song performed by Vanilla Ice
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sesame Street Gangsters
It's the Sesame Street gangsters
The one and only crew
Elmo's got a gun
He’ll shoot your down
Cookie monster's gone loco
From eating all that coco
He’s got a machine gun and shooting up the place
If you only see his crazy ass damn face
Then there's Grover the travel guide
Smoking everything plus weed till he die
We got Bert with his gay ass self
It's to late to give him any help
Ernie drived him crazy
So he started drinking and got lazy
Let's not forget the damn annoying Ernie
He's been taking coke and getting high with his ducky
That's the Sesame Street Gangster
poem by LaTisha Parkinson
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Round Are Way
The paper boy is working before he goes
Lying to the teacher he knows he knows
He didn't and he should've
Brought his lines in yesterday
Ernie bangs the sound and the day begins
The letterbox is open and your cash falls in
I'll meet you at the office
Just before the staff clock in
Round are way the birds are singing
Round are way the sun shines bright
Round are way the birds sing for yer
The already know yer
The game is kicking off in around the park
It's twenty five a side and before it's dark
There's gonna be a loser
And you know the next goal wins
Cab it to the front as it's called a draw
Everybody's knockin at yours once more
Ernie bangs the sound
And no one's spoken since half past four
Round are way the birds are singing
Round are way the sun shines bright
Round are way the birds are minging
Round are way it's alright
Round are way the birds sing for you
Cos the already know yer
They already know yer
song performed by Oasis
Added by Lucian Velea
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Round Are Away
The paper boy is working before he goes
Lying to the teacher he knows he knows
He didn't and he should've
Brought his lines in yesterday
Ernie bangs the sound and the day begins
The letterbox is open and your cash falls in
I'll meet you at the office
Just before the staff clock in
Round are way the birds are singing
Round are way the sun shines bright
Round are way the birds sing for yer
The already know yer
The game is kicking off in around the park
It's twenty five a side and before it's dark
There's gonna be a loser
And you know the next goal wins
Cab it to the front as it's called a draw
Everybody's knockin at yours once more
Ernie bangs the sound
And no one's spoken since half past four
Round are way the birds are singing
Round are way the sun shines bright
Round are way the birds are minging
Round are way it's alright
Round are way the birds sing for you
Cos the already know yer
They already know yer
song performed by Oasis
Added by Lucian Velea
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Were Not Gonna Take It
Tommy: welcome to the camp,
Tommy: welcome to the camp,
I guess you all know why were here.
I guess you all know why were here.
My name is tommy
My name is tommy
And I became aware this year
And I became aware this year
If you want to follow me,
If you want to follow me,
Youve got to play pinball.
Youve got to play pinball.
And put in your earplugs
And put in your earplugs
Put on your eyeshades
Put on your eyeshades
You know where to put the caulk
You know where to put the caulk
Hey you getting drunk, so sorry!
Hey you getting drunk, so sorry!
Ive got you sussed.
Ive got you sussed.
Hey you smoking mother nature!
Hey you smoking mother nature!
This is a bust!
This is a bust!
Hey hung up old mr. normal,
Hey hung up old mr. normal,
Dont try to gain my trust!
Dont try to gain my trust!
cause you aint gonna follow me any of those ways
cause you aint gonna follow me any of those ways
Although you think you must
Although you think you must
Guests:
Guests:
Were not gonna take it
Were not gonna take it
Were not gonna take it
Were not gonna take it
Were not gonna take it
Were not gonna take it
Were not gonna take it
Were not gonna take it
Were not gonna take it
Were not gonna take it
Never did and never will
Never did and never will
Were not gonna take it
Were not gonna take it
[...] Read more
song performed by Who
Added by Lucian Velea
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The End of Ernie Lowe
The rain dripped down on my overcoat
As I walked beneath the trees,
An avenue filled with poplars, grim,
And dark, with an icy breeze,
I'd walked this way a million times
As a child, and a younger man,
But this could well be the final time
As I went to hold his hand!
I'd always called him Uncle Ern
From a time that I don't know when,
He'd carried me on his shoulders since
I was just a squalling bairn,
He'd kicked a ball in the park with me,
Was there to fly a kite,
But now that big, old generous man
Had come to his own midnight!
Ern was the one to church me, he'd
Done more than my parents would,
He took me along to evensong
And sang, as best as he could,
He had a rumbling baritone
That rattled the wooden pews,
And smiled at me in the choir there
As the vicar collected the dues.
I grew at length, but I sought him out
Whenever I'd need advice,
He'd say: ‘I'll give you a tip or two,
But I'm not going to tell you twice! '
Then he'd laugh, a raucous, bubbling sound
That would put my fears to rest,
And we'd share a pint at the ‘King and Crown',
And I knew I was more than blessed.
But life went on and I lost my faith
In the light of discovery,
For science placed the world of the Lord
Beyond recovery,
Though I never said a word to him,
For his faith was strong and sure,
And I would do nothing to hurt him now
That his years came up, four score!
I rapped on the wooden panels of
The door with the painted shell,
And shortly a nurse had let me in,
She muttered: ‘It's just as well!
He's called for you for an hour or so,
[...] Read more
poem by David Lewis Paget
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The Old Stockman's Lament
Wrap me up in me stockwhip and blanket,
And bury me deep down below,
Where this piffle and sham won’t disgust me,
In the land where the coolibahs grow;
For I’ve stayed with some well-to-do people,
And I’ve dined with some middle-class folk;
And I’ve sorrowed by clock-tower and steeple
Till my heart for the Commonwealth’s broke.
They have flown in another direction,
Who used to clack-clack by the hour
Of “this awful Freetrade and Protection,”
Of our dear darling member “in power,”
And the Higher Religion for Dossers,
And the Need of an Object for Drunks—
Now they’re all of them Red or Blue Crossers,
With their tails sticking out of their trunks.
There are citified Martins in dozens—
The Darling Point Martins the pick—
Who used to be horrified cousins
Of a Martin we knew as “Mad Mick.”
He is hanging out somewhere where French is;
But they heard he’d enlisted—somehow,
And ’twould paralyse Mick in the trenches
To know how he’s glorified now.
You remember the George Henry Crosses?
They’ve packed up twelve trunks in despair.
He’s the boss of the back-station bosses,
And Ernie’s the son and the heir.
He has never put hands on a wether,
Nor heard a pithed store-bullock grunt;
So they’re taking the mailboat to England
To see Ernie safe to the Front.
And each of the war-going parsons
Costs many a heart-breaking tear—
Like that caddish young cub of old Carson’s,
All found and four hundred a year.
He feels not a word that he preaches,
But he will not be criticised there,
Where, out where the flying shell screeches,
Poor Tommy must fight, sweat and swear.
“Our relatives, too” (hang the Censor!)
Each girl has a tear on her cheek.
Cousin Roger has gone as dispenser
(Expenses and three pounds a week.
More risky than list’ning to sermons,
As some of our fellows will find,
[...] Read more
poem by Henry Lawson
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I Want To Be The One Who Yah Yahs
I don't want to be that singer,
Of a long song gone.
Or be the one defeated,
By two unmoving feet.
I don't want to feel them stuck as if cemented,
With a sitting to waste time away.
I don't want to be that singer,
Of a long song gone.
Not any time of any day.
I don't want to be that singer,
Of a long song gone.
I...
Want my happy yah yahs.
I want that in my voice and strong.
I want my yah yahs there and a part...
Of my happiness all day long.
I don't want to be that singer,
Of those blues that sap.
I don't want to be the one that sits,
In a rocking chair to reminisce like that!
I...
Want to be the one who yah yahs.
I want to turn my yah yahs into art!
I want to hear my yah yahs rise,
To echo all over the place.
I don't want to be that singer,
Of a long song gone.
I...
Want my happy yah yahs.
I want that in my voice and strong.
I want my yah yahs there and a part...
Of my happiness all day long.
I want my yah yahs to never stop,
Drop to fizz or plop!
I don't want to be the one to sing,
About a dues I've paid.
With a blues with me that stays.
I...
Want to be the one who yah yahs.
I want to turn my yah yahs into art!
I'm going to yah yah until someone decides I disturb.
And they threaten to call the cops.
And when those cops arrive they will know,
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Un poema
Soñaba en ese entonces en forjar un poema,
De arte nervioso y nueva obra audaz y suprema,
Escogí entre un asunto grotesco y otro trágico
Llamé a todos los ritmos con un conjuro mágico
Y los ritmos indóciles vinieron acercándose,
Juntándose en las sombras, huyéndose y buscándose,
Ritmos sonoros, ritmos potentes, ritmos graves,
Unos cual choques de armas, otros cual cantos de aves.
De Oriente hasta Occidente, desde el Sur hasta el Norte
De metros y de formas se presentó la corte.
Tascando frenos áureos bajo las riendas frágiles
Cruzaron los tercetos, como corceles ágiles;
Abriéndose ancho paso por entre aquella grey
Vestido de oro y púrpura llegó el soneto rey,
Y allí cantaron todos... Entre la algarabía,
Me fascinó el espíritu, por su coquetería
Alguna estrofa aguda que excitó mi deseo,
Con el retintín claro de su campanilleo.
Y la escogí entre todas... Por regalo nupcial
Le di unas rimas ricas, de plata y de cristal.
En ella conté un cuento, que huyendo lo servil.
Tomó un carácter trágico, fantástico Y sutil,
Era la historia triste, desprestigiada y cierta
De una mujer hermosa, idolatrada y muerta,
Y para que sintieran la amargura, exprofeso,
Junté sílabas dulces como el sabor de un beso,
Bordé las frases de oro, les di música extraña
Como de mandolinas que un laúd acompaña,
Dejé en una luz vaga las hondas lejanías
Llenas de nieblas húmedas y de melancolías
Y por el fondo oscuro, como en mundana fiesta,
Cruzan ágiles máscaras al compás de la orquesta,
Envueltas en palabras que ocultan como un velo,
Y con caretas negras de raso y terciopelo,
[...] Read more
poem by Jose Asuncion Silva
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Part II
So, they ring bell, give orders, pay, depart
Amid profuse acknowledgment from host
Who well knows what may bring the younger back.
They light cigar, descend in twenty steps
The 'calm acclivity,' inhale—beyond
Tobacco's balm—the better smoke of turf
And wood fire,—cottages at cookery
I' the morning,—reach the main road straitening on
'Twixt wood and wood, two black walls full of night
Slow to disperse, though mists thin fast before
The advancing foot, and leave the flint-dust fine
Each speck with its fire-sparkle. Presently
The road's end with the sky's beginning mix
In one magnificence of glare, due East,
So high the sun rides,—May's the merry month.
They slacken pace: the younger stops abrupt.
Discards cigar, looks his friend full in face.
"All right; the station comes in view at end;
Five minutes from the beech-clump, there you are!
I say: let's halt, let's borrow yonder gate
Of its two magpies, sit and have a talk!
Do let a fellow speak a moment! More
I think about and less I like the thing—
No, you must let me! Now, be good for once!
Ten thousand pounds be done for, dead and damned!
We played for love, not hate: yes, hate! I hate
Thinking you beg or borrow or reduce
To strychnine some poor devil of a lord
Licked at Unlimited Loo. I had the cash
To lose—you knew that!—lose and none the less
Whistle to-morrow: it's not every chap
Affords to take his punishment so well!
Now, don't be angry with a friend whose fault
Is that he thinks—upon my soul, I do—
Your head the best head going. Oh, one sees
Names in the newspaper—great this, great that,
Gladstone, Carlyle, the Laureate:—much I care!
Others have their opinion, I keep mine:
Which means—by right you ought to have the things
I want a head for. Here's a pretty place,
My cousin's place, and presently my place.
Not yours! I'll tell you how it strikes a man.
My cousin's fond of music and of course
Plays the piano (it won't be for long!)
A brand-new bore she calls a 'semi-grand,'
Rosewood and pearl, that blocks the drawing-room.
And cost no end of money. Twice a week
Down comes Herr Somebody and seats himself.
Sets to work teaching—with his teeth on edge—
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Inn Album (1875)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Tempestrousseau
The clock is dressed in drag, I mean it wears
space instead of its own proper aspect
but if it wore time, would it disappear
isn't visibility an effect
of transvestism, that shield pastime whose
crosscasual aim unmasks the eye: must you
assume the costume of the other to
be here, to present the sense with an ess. . .
Narcissus saw his guise decked out all ruse,
but if there were none, what would our true clothes
consist of, our rig rags, our regalia—
Whose dapper element dons us: Einstein's
continuum—or Flaubert's condence
that, come the same, the Bovary c'est Moi?
poem by Bill Knott
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Are You a Prince?
Are you a Prince or are you a toad?
I leave your heart at the side of the road,
For I do not know if you are really sincere,
You seem like a boy who is very immature.
To all that is, and all that was;
It became of nothing just because…
For I have grown into a full Princ-ess,
I must leave behind all the rest.
And go after what is Best.
Written on Jan.14,2011 by Christina Sunrise
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Sonnet: Ubiquitous love
U nless a living creature clones alone-
B esides the single-celled, it's rather rare,
I nherited biology has sewn
Q uiescent pairing instincts set to flare.
U niting every animal as kin
I n similar design, cells synthesize,
T ime-tested love concoctions made within
O ur cousins in their various disguise.
U ncomplicated impulse guides the small
S wift action's called for when one's span is short,
L ess hurried lives are swept by rise and fall
O f rhythmic waves which tip their paths athwart.
V ibrations shake the biosphere surround
E sprit of countless love affairs unbound.
poem by Diane Hine
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Philosophy 1
Locked
Between
Two fires
or three
Waiting
waiting
waiting
Depress ed
depressed
despair
despair
despair
Hope
hope
hope
hope
Waiting
Pai n
pain
pain
pain
waiting
for
Hi s
Mercy
Mercy
Mercy
Mercy
Forgiven ess
Fed up
Fed up
Yet fed up with hope
Or so to say:
Fed With Mercy....
poem by Eman Elbadawi
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On The Eastern Front
The ominous anger of masses of men
Is like the wild organ of the winter storm,
The purple surge of battle,
Leafless stars.
With broken eyebrows and silver arms
The night waves to dying soldiers.
In the shade of the ash tree of autumn
The souls of the slain are sighing.
A thorny desert surrounds the city.
The moon chases the shocked women
From the bleeding stairways.
Wild wolves have broken through the door
poem by Georg Trakl
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