Quotes about fat, page 9
The Bleating of the Sheep
Lo, I listened to the bleating of the sheep
Squatters' sheep
And I sat me down and pondered long and deep.
And a cloud of gloom came o'er me
At the empty leagues before me
Yea, I marked the virgin grass-lands' mighty sweep
Land that called for cultivation;
Cried aloud for population
Land that carried trees and fences, grass and sheep.
0, I listened to their bleating on the plain
Virgin plain
And I spoke to them with epithets profane.
In the valley, on the hill,
Yet were sheep, and more sheep still.
(Which annoyed me very much, I must explain.
For one sheep may he a blessing,
But a million are depressing.)
And I cursed them, but I knew I cursed in vain.
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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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March of Memories
Left, right - left, right . . .
We march today for memories (the grizzled Digger said)
Memories of lost dreams and comrades gone ahead
Comrades bloody war took, dreams that men have slain
(Left, right - left, right . . .) Not ours to dream again.
There was Shorty Hall and Len Pratt, Long Joe and Blue,
Skeet and Brolga Houlihan, and Fat and me and you:
Bright lads, the old bunch; eager lads and keen
That first day we marched down thro' this familiar scene.
Dreams were ours, and high hopes went with us overseas.
(Left, right - left, right . . . ) And now 'tis memories.
We march again for memories (the grizzled Digger sighed)
Memories of lost mates, of foolish hopes that died.
First, Shorty got his issue on the beach at Sari Bair.
(Left, right - left, right . . .) The vision of him there
Brought the dawn of disillusion. I needed little more
To blood me to the butchery, the filthiness called war.
Shorty, like a limp rag, slung there anyhow,
Sprawling on the warm sand like I can see him now.
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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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A Discontented Sugar Broker
A gentleman of City fame
Now claims your kind attention;
East India broking was his game,
His name I shall not mention:
No one of finely-pointed sense
Would violate a confidence,
And shall I go
And do it? No!
His name I shall not mention.
He had a trusty wife and true,
And very cosy quarters,
A manager, a boy or two,
Six clerks, and seven porters.
A broker must be doing well
(As any lunatic can tell)
Who can employ
An active boy,
Six clerks, and seven porters.
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poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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8 Lust Severed From Love
When from love
is severed lust
reduced is the world's
level of trust
******************************
ANIMAL PRODUCTS REDUCE SEXUAL FUNCTIONING
(If you are celibate for spiritual or other reasons, please do
not take offense.)
INFERTILITY
Sons of coweating mothers have lower sperm counts
and some infertility, according to a
team at the University of Rochester Medical Center in New York
which studied data on the partners of 387 pregnant women in five U.S. cities between 2000 and 2005, and on the mothers of the fathers-to-be.
(reported by Reuters, ABC, and MSNBC)
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poem by O. Anna Niemus
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The Demon Of The Study
The Brownie sits in the Scotchman's room,
And eats his meat and drinks his ale,
And beats the maid with her unused broom,
And the lazy lout with his idle flail;
But he sweeps the floor and threshes the corn,
And hies him away ere the break of dawn.
The shade of Denmark fled from the sun,
And the Cocklane ghost from the barn-loft cheer,
The fiend of Faust was a faithful one,
Agrippa's demon wrought in fear,
And the devil of Martin Luther sat
By the stout monk's side in social chat.
The Old Man of the Sea, on the neck of him
Who seven times crossed the deep,
Twined closely each lean and withered limb,
Like the nightmare in one's sleep.
But he drank of the wine, and Sindbad cast
The evil weight from his back at last.
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poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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In Spadger's Lane
Ole Mother Moon 'oo yanks 'er beamin' dile
Acrost the sky when we've grown sick o' day,
She's like some fat ole Jane 'oo loves to smile
On all concerned, an' smooth our faults away;
An', like a woman, tries to 'ide again
The sores an' scars crool day 'as made too plain.
To all the earth she gives the soft glad-eye;
She picks no fav'rits in this world o' men;
She peeps in nooks, where 'appy lovers sigh,
To make their job more bonzer still; an' then,
O'er Spadger's Lane she waves a podgy 'and,
An' turns the scowlin' slums to Fairyland.
Aw, strike! I'm gettin' soft in my ole age!
I'm growin' mushy wiv the passin' years.
Me! that 'as called it weakness to ingage
In sloppy thorts that coax the pearly tears.
But say, me state o' mind I can't ixplain
When I seen Rose lars' night in Spadger's Lane.
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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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The Little Red Dog
The Glugs still live in the land of Gosh,
Under the rule of the great King Splosh.
And they climb the trees in the Summer and Spring,
Because it is reckoned the regular thing.
Down in the valley they live their lives,
Taking the air with their aunts and wives.
And they climb the trees in the Winter and Fall,
And count it improper to climb not at all.
And they name their trees with a thousand names,
Calling them after their Arts and Aims;
And some, they climb for the fun of the thing,
But most go up at the call of the King.
Some scale a tree that they fear to name,
For it bears great blossoms of scarlet shame.
But they eat of the fruit of the nameless tree,
Because they are Glugs, and their choice is free.
But every eve, when the sun goes West,
Over the mountain they call The Blest,
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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Robin Hood's Flight
Robin Hood's mother, these twelve years now,
Has been gone from her earthly home;
And Robin has paid, he scarce knew how,
A sum for a noble tomb.
The church-yard lies on a woody hill,
But open to sun and air:
It seems as if the heaven still
Were looking and smiling there.
Often when Robin looked that way,
He looked through a sweet thin tear;
But he looked in a different manner, they say,
Towards the Abbey of Vere.
He cared not for its ill-got wealth,
He felt not for his pride;
He had youth, and strength, and health,
And enough for one beside.
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poem by James Henry Leigh Hunt
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34c
34c isnt good enough for me
I need to have, at least a d
34c isnt good enough for me
I need to have, at least a d
Big ones, round ones, fat ones, too
Itty bitty teeny ones just wont do
Big ones, round ones, fat ones, too
Itty bitty teeny ones just wont do
34c isnt good enough for me
I need to have, at least a d
34c isnt good enough for me
I need to have, at least a d
Big ones, round ones, fat ones, too
Itty bitty teeny ones just wont do
Big ones, round ones, firm ones, too
Id like to see the ones on you
song performed by Devo
Added by Lucian Velea
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You Can't Fool The Fat Man
Sittin' with the fat man
Tryin' to get a loan
Talkin' about horses
And the women that we've known
Spittin' on the sidewalk
Squintin' into the sun
Greetin' all the people
Smilin' at everyone
I said "hey, listen, fat man
I just can't get a break
Must i pay my whole life long
For just one mistake?
"my brother's in the armed forces
My sister is in jail,
Won't you give me fifty dollars
So i can pay her bail?"
He said "you can't fool the fat man
No, you can't fool me
You're just a two-bit grifter
And that's all you'll ever be
song performed by Randy Newman
Added by Lucian Velea
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