Subject: RE: Aine's Mudcat Songbook PermaThread From: bradfordian Date: 06 Sep 22 - 03:36 PM Àine was posting on Mudcat from 1998 and her last post was 28 October 2007. She ran song challenges which she hosted or ported to Geocities. This website was taken over by yahoo and eventually all content was deleted. In 2010 Joe Offer was able to retrieve much of the song challenge content from a backup website and port it into Mudcat (in this thread) There are more song challenge threads scattered throughout Mudcat to still pull into the songbook index. Àine suddenly disappeared from Mudcat and as far as I know there has been no further contact. I would like to place on record on behalf of Mudcat appreciation and gratitude for the work that Àine was involved with on Mudcat. Barrie Mathers (Bradfordian) |
Subject: RE: Aine's Mudcat Songbook PermaThread From: Felipa Date: 04 Feb 21 - 04:22 PM whatever happened to Áine Cooke? She hasn't posted on Mudcat, at least not as "Áine" since 2007 according to my search. |
Subject: Paean To Cleigh by Micca From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 09:54 AM Paean To Cleigh by Micca (Tune: Because All Men Are Brothers) Micca's Comments: Inspired by this thread (BS: For Catspaw and others: possums) and waiting for a sterilizer to do its job . . . My brothers are all possums forever and a day These little furry creatures have stole my heart away I pine for Cleigh O'Possum tho' he is made of clay And he's my joy unbroken until my dying day As fur or ocarina my heart is turned to Cleigh that possums is my soul mate and I with him must stay and all the fame and glory Is his and his alone And I would emulate him tho' my ass is unblown He is a mudcat icon tho' small and shy and good and even being with catspaw has not changed him to rude his fame goes out before him we all would wish him well and blessings on you barbara for casting this great spell My brothers are all possums forever and a day These little furry creatures have stole my heart away I pine for Cleigh O'Possum, tho' he is made of clay And he's my joy unbroken until my dying day Michael A. Patterson (2000) |
Subject: The Woes of the Gentlemen's Club by Amos & Leejay From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 09:32 AM The Woes of the Gentlemen's Club by Amos and Lonesome EJ Come all ye Playboy Playmates, wherever ye may be I hope you'll pay attention, and listen unto me For well ye know the shimmy, and the rassle and the blow That keeps the money coming in, in the house in Chicago Chorus: Oh it's dark as a dungeon, and damp as the dew! Where the dangers are many, and the gentlemen few! For the guests are as randy as a billy goat's cub! Oh, it's dark as a dungeon in the Gentlemen's Club! When first I left my native farm, a tender miss alone I had just a pair of thirty-eights, nothing else to call my own Oh little did I understand the whacky rodeo That I soon would be embroiled among In the house in Chicago Chorus Come gather round Playmates and pay me your mind Seek not your fortune in the Bump and the Grind Disdain all the drunkards who pinch, grope and rub It's dark as a dungeon in the Gentleman's Club. Chorus When first I did come there, a maiden so willing I thought 'twas no harm, and I needed the shilling! But the leering and whistles, they made my head whirl! And I found that the Club was no place for a girl! Chorus They'll measure you up, and they'll calm all your fears And they'll makeyou cavort in those cute bunny ears And then the photographer offers his stub! Bad cess to the owner of the Gentlemen's Club! Chorus Your smile quickly fades, and your spirits do fail When first you go forth in the vile Cotton Tail In the smoke and confusion and the noise of the band! Then your cotton tail falls to a customer's hand! Chorus Oh the bodice it crimps you and gives you false airs And the high heels are murder, when climbing the stairs And the drunks are disgusting, the horny old tubs! Bad cess and farewell to the Gentlemen's Club! Chorus I fear, as I age, and the days roll along That someday my stomach will cover my thong Then I'll sunbathe on the porch at the Old Playmate's Home And pity those geezers still a-diggin' my bones! Oh it's dark as a dungeon, and damp as the dew! Where the dangers are many, and the gentlemen few! For the guests are as randy as a billy goat's cub! Oh, it's dark as a dungeon in the Gentlemen's Club! Oh it's dark as a dungeon, and damp as the dew! Where the dangers are many, and the gentlemen few! For the guests are as randy as a billy goat's cub! Oh, it's dark as a dungeon in the Gentlemen's Club! |
Subject: Will That Be Broadcast Or Cable, Sir? by Praise From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 09:30 AM Will That Be Broadcast Or Cable, Sir? by Praise The latest trend in Gary, from what I understand, Is to set their clocks to GMT, although in Indianne. The reason for the time change, as they explained to me, Is because that's the time that's always displayed upon Mudcat TV. "Mudcat TV??!!" Yes, Mudcat TV. How, you ask, could such a thing have ever come to be? Well it was someone's inspiration (I can't recall which thread) To make cartoons out of every word the 'Catter's have ever said. It became a hot fundraiser, to keep the 'Cat afloat, And Saturday mornings in Gary, the viewers cast their vote For the best of the week's live entries, and you know who usually wins? That nasty Cleigh O'Possum, though quite awful are his sins. They said it could never happen--real money in this game? But it finally was reckanized that the problem had been the name. See, no one'll pay big bucks for folk, so it now is called "Who Wants To Exchange Their Low-Paying Job in the Sweatshop for Coffee and Crosissants." That's right! Phoak Music's philosophy and phreakiness and phun, Are hidden inside a game show, now, and it's rated number one. It's the only one with a host named Max, and a host who seldom appears, (Though the host is reputed to work real hard, and sometimes strips his gears.) The contestants are all those 'Catters who used to write the threads, But now they are far too busy hiding winnings from the feds. (The Goddess was off the show for a week just to meet with her CPA, Cuz big money is taxed far too heavily here in North Amerikay.) And the viewers are learning quickly how to make a Mudcat pun, And soon they will be folkified, too, and join in all the fun. That's when the plan goes global. Worked for "Millionaire", you know. Didn't you know "Whose Line Is It Anyway?" is just a pilot Mudcat show? |
Subject: Whispers In The Breeze by Amergin From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 09:28 AM Whispers In The Breeze by Amergin (originally posted in the thread "Homage To A Broken Man") He sat within Kigali town His heart was being torn For his reports of coming genocide His superiors they had scorned With callous uncaring hearts They ignored his pleas While soft the voices came to him A whisperin' in the breeze 'Twas hard the woeful sights to see Of his men dying all around But harder still to bear the shame Of the UN chains around And so he cried to an angry god "Oh, please stop this mad disease" As he heard the cries of his dying men A whisperin' in the breeze While sad he heard the phones go dead The lines all soaked in blood Children heads rolled down the street Carried in a crimson flood The machete blades gleamed with red As his soul began to freeze 800,000 Tutsis cried A whisperin' in the breeze The UN bastards they turned their backs Upon this sad heroic man They said it was his lone fault The massacres did begin Eventually he cleared his name But his mind was not appeased 800,000 Tutsis cry A whisperin' in the breeze He was found in a park in Hull With a bottle in his hand Drenched from his liquid meds This once glorious man He drinks the liquor everyday His broken mind to appease And to deaden the ghostly Tutsis cry A whisperin' in the breeze |
Subject: The While Drover by The Shambles, Wolfgang, Alice From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 09:27 AM The While Drover by The Shambles, Wolfgang, Alice, steve t., and Barbara With thanks to the (below contributors), all those who contributed to the thread and apologies to everyone else who may have been offended. -- The Shambles. Ivor Bean, a while, drover, For 'Manny', a GOODYEAR, An ice bend, hall harmony, Honour 'Risky' Anne Bier. Andy Now, armory, turning, Wig holding, raised oar. Hand Island, endeavour, whelp lay, The while, drover, Gnome Moor. Chorus Hand, tits, know, neigh, neither, Know, neigh, neither, Gnome Moor. Will Eye? Play, the while, drover, know, neither, Gnome Moor. (The above from The Shambles) Eye wind to a Yale house, Thadie you stew free Gwent, Annie tolled Alan Lady, my man, knee was splint, I axed Hereford grayed it, Sheehan sir-ed mean, "Eh?" , Satchel cussed, um, a** yours! I can get Annie Day! , (The above from alice in montana) I fulcrum I bucket tensor burns bride, End a dandlings size append white Whidbey blight, Chase a dive with key unwinds undervest, Ander wards at icepick sherbert tony ingest , (The above from Barbara (blessings)) Then out of my pocket I took soverigns bright, And spun them and waved them to gleam in the light, The landlady frowned, snarled, now if I'm right, This is Canada, not England, keep your soverigns, Good night! , ...my parents... ...and if they lend me money as oftimes before, then I'll not bollux this song, the while Drover, no more, (The above from steve t.) Here's the start of a German translation of the While, Drover: Alf Biene, weil Troja formen hieáe Ghia.. "It shows beautifully how all those names tend to get lost or culturally adapted in a translation which is what makes research on folksongs so difficult." (The above from Wolfgang) |
Subject: When A Packet Hits A Pocket by Author Unknown From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 09:26 AM When A Packet Hits A Pocket by Author Unknown (submitted by Patrish) Here's an easy game to play. Here's an easy thing to say: If a packet hits a pocket on a socket on a port, And the bus is interrupted as a very last resort, And the address of the memory makes your floppy disk abort, Then the socket packet pocket has an error to report! If your cursor finds a menu item followed by a dash, And the double-clicking icon puts your window in the trash, And your data is corrupted 'cause the index doesn't hash, Then your situation's hopeless and your system's gonna crash! You can't say this? What a shame, Sir! We'll find you. Another game sir. If the label on the cable on the table at your house, Says the network is connected to the button on your mouse, But your packets want to tunnel on another protocol, That's repeatedly rejected by the printer down the hall, And your screen is all distorted by the side effects of gauss. So your icons in the window are as wavy as a souse, Then you may as well reboot and go out with a bang, 'Cause as sure as I'm a poet, the sucker's gonna hang! When the copy of your floppy's getting sloppy on the disk, And the microcode instructions cause unnecessary risc, Then you have to flash your memory and you'll want to RAM your ROM. Quickly turn off the computer and be sure to tell your Mom. |
Subject: The Towersey Ballad by Matthew Edwards From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 09:24 AM The Towersey Ballad by Matthew Edwards (Tune: Walsingham) As you came from Towersey That holy place of fame, Met you with my Mudcat By the way you came? How should I your Mudcat know From another one? By his coloured shirt and badge And his sandal shoon. He is drunken dead, lady, He is drunk and gone. His head lies on the grass-green turf, At his heels a Stone. White his face as the mountain snow Larded all with sweet Flowers, Which bewept to the barn did go And stayed all hours. |
Subject: To Old Friend 'What-His-Name' by Kevin McGrath From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 09:22 AM To Old Friend 'What-His-Name' by Kevin McGrath (Tune: Deportees (Plane Crash at Los Gatos) by Woody Guthrie) My Pee-See is crashed, all my cookies are crumbled, I'm trapped in this Web, and my pride has been humbled I think somebody's poisoned this watering hole. And the Mudcat's been skinned, it's been slaughtered and sold. Chorus: My head it is sore, and my heart it needs healing Let's all sing out once more And let's sing it with feeling Let's break down the walls, And let's bring down the ceiling For they say that the day of the Mudcat is gone. One by one we go down, and the last was Mike Billo - and we buried him under an old weeping willow, and we carved on his tombstone this epitaph plain, "Rest in Peace! Rise in Glory, Old Friend What's-His-Name" Chorus: My head it is sore, and my heart it needs healing Let's all sing out once more And let's sing it with feeling Let's break down the walls, And let's bring down the ceiling For they say that the day of the Mudcat is gone. When I first came upon it out there in the desert I thought I had found an Oasis of Quiet with the Mudcat in splendour, and singing and shouting But trouble soon came and marauders and fighting. Chorus: My head it is sore, and my heart it needs healing Let's all sing out once more And let's sing it with feeling Let's break down the walls, And let's bring down the ceiling And rise to the skies with the Mudcat reborn. And let's rise to the skies, with the Mudcat reborn. © Kevin McGrath 2000 |
Subject: Turing Testing Time by Bradypus From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 09:21 AM Turing Testing Time by Bradypus Talk to me, baby Convince me that you're cute Prove to me you're human And I will not compute Turing test me baby Let me prove I'm real Chips and ram and circuit boards Can't tell you how I feel Joke with me, baby Make me laugh and hoot Humour comes with human So how does this compute? Twisting, turning, Turing Megahertz and bytes Calculating constantly To put the world to rights Sing to me, baby Or play it on the lute Melody and harmony Will help me to compute Stick it into overdrive Send it through the bus Computers trying to be human Sure cause a lot of fuss Cry to me, baby Emotion is the root Of what keeps us human When we're trying to compute Twisting, turning Turing Testing far and near Computers still can't fool us At least, not this year! |
Subject: There Once Was A Panda by Praise From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 09:19 AM There Once Was A Panda by Praise There once was a Panda, Miranda, Who kept company on her verandah. Her favorite caller Was a former footballer-- I believe that his name was George Blanda. On a neighboring street the koala Had the urge to go see Walla Walla. He packed his valise, (Thought he'd stay with his niece), But she'd died and had gone to Valhallah. The koala complained to Miranda, That her life by comparison was grander. She replied with a coy, "But you're my kinda boy!" So to her veranda he wandah-ed. He proceeded to evict the footballer, And became Ms. Miranda's new follower. She offered him lunch, And he said, "Thanks a bunch, Now I think of it, I'd rather eat in Austrah-lia. The panda had planned on organza For the wedding, the groom now half landed. But she bid him adieu (And I would have, wouldn't you?) Thus he never shared panda orgasma. |
Subject: That Dirty Little Coward! by Rick Fielding, Jeri, From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 09:18 AM That Dirty Little Coward! by Rick Fielding, Jeri, Sinsull, and Áine Jessie James was a man, who decided to retire. And he knew the law would never leave him be. So he faked his own death, and left the old wild weatht and when people said "where's Jesse".........said "beat's me." He put away his six guns, his cowboy hat and boots, and opened up a wee cross-dresser's shop. and the townsfolk all knew Jesse, as "the lady known as Toots" and in his yard he grew a marihuana crop. Chorus: Oh Jesse was a wife, who went and changed his life, but he couldn't have no children strong and brave. He looked like Leslie Howard, and talked just like Noel Coward and no one ever saw him feeling grave. Jesse robbed from the poor and gave to the rich He never did a friendly thing And when his best friend died He was right there by her side And he lifted off her golden wedding ring He was J. Frank D unless he really was Jesse So they dug his corpse from its eternal bed But someone dropped the ball and they really dug up Holland And the only thing we know for sure is they're all dead Chorus Now Jessie's DNA was a match for ol' O J Likewise the Mormon Tabernacle Choir Did Elvis meet his end, where are Roswell's little men? Of conspiracies I'll surely never tire. Henry H. thought Grapevine a lovely place To lay down at last upon his face, He couldn't then know how he would harm, The search for Jesse with his one arm. Chorus |
Subject: Tak' Me Ol' Galoshes by Katlaughing, Metchosin Mbo From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 09:16 AM Tak' Me Ol' Galoshes by Katlaughing, Metchosin and Mbo Tak' me ol' galoshes Tak' me rubbers please I've doon wi' claenin' fur-ahins arses It's cam up tae me knee I'd lik tae hang oot in me wellies In a braw and heather scent Sae a' the bonnie lassies ken Tha I'm a gent I'm doon wi' brooshin' wi'ers I'm doon wi' brooshin' ass The anly brooshin' e'er I'll dae Is for haughie-mandie wi' the lassies in the grass Gie tae me a crop an bunnet I keen for mair holy groond I nae wha' ye ken, kis I'm weirin' pink I'm gane tae reenge and me dug The gaitherts doot they deserve their look The puir are nae sae shair They dow wint tae the carriage profeesion Bit will aye staun knee deep in manure! A toast noo tae the Welly Let their praises e'er be sung For nathin' is sae unco' fine When scoopin' up the dung! The King o' a' the bootie race Wha's match ha' ne'er been met When ramblin' frae the Hielan' snaw Or braes a' soggie wet! Sae we'er your hie or your la' broo In the coompny o' baists or snoots This ane rale ye maun mind-o Ye'll needs must want your boots! |
Subject: Take Me Ol' Galoshes= Katlaughing, Metchosin Mbo From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 09:14 AM Take Me Ol' Galoshes by Katlaughing, Metchosin and Mbo Yune here: http://www.mudcat.org/alanofoz/Galosh2.mid Confiscate my galoshes Take my rubbers please I've done with mucking horse arses It's come up to my knees I'd like to hang out in my wellies In a fine and clover scent So all the pretty lasses know That I consider myself a gent I'm done with currying withers I'm done with currying ass The only currying I now want to do Is for favours with maids in the grass. Hand me a crop and helmet I long for much higher ground I'm not what you think, just because I'm in Pink I'm off to the hunt and the hound The rich believe they're deserving their luck The poor are not quite so sure They may aspire to the carriage trade But will still stand knee deep in manure. A toast now to the Welly Let their praises ever be sung For nothing is so uncommonly fine When scooping up the dung The King of all the boot race Who's match have never been met When rambling from the Highland snow Or the hills all soggy and wet! So whether your high or your low-brow In the company of farm animals or snoots This one rule you should remember You will always require you boots. |
Subject: Sugar Dog Man by Praise From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 09:09 AM Sugar Dog Man by Praise Praise's Comments: Here's a new one from the Tavern.... This little puppy, she got her a wag And a wiggle and a giggle and a tail for a flag! She can always hear the step of the wunnaful Sugar Dog Man, And the Sugar Dog Man he sees her, huh! As only he can. Yes the Sugar Dog Man, Now that's a treasure like wow! Cuz a Sugar Dog Man, baby-- He ain't never fooled, nohow! Corgi and Retriever, and a little corraggio sure, Sugar Dog is faithful with a heart that is pure. Sugar Dog and Sugar Dog Man, they go for a ride, Beats keepin' up with that LONG Sugar Dog Man stride! Yes the Sugar Dog Man, That's a keeper you know! Cuz a Sugar Dog Man, lil sugar dogs, He always knows where to go! Sugar Dogs is 'licious! An' Sugar Dogs is sweet. A real Sugar Dog will lick you, yes, right offa your feet! Sugar Dog Man don't use a leash, he don't tell you to stay, Sugar Dog Man just offer a lap, cuz that's the bestest Sugar Dog way! Yes the Sugar Dog Man, He treat him his Sugar Dog all right! Rather play with this old Sugar Dog Than glare up a Sugar Dog fight. Now Sugar Dogs is loving, an' Sugar Dogs is nice. But Sugar Dogs ain't stupid-- no, love, Sugar Dogs is wise. And Sugar Dogs can always tell just which way to go, And Sugar Dog, if asked where she sleep, oh yeah, she always know! See there's a special Sugar Dog Man, Keeps the Sugar Dog Luhhv Bed. An' Sugar Dog she surely come there For to lay down her silky soft head. So Sugar Dog Man, you may be, an' Sugar Dog, you may see. Sugar Dog may curl up in your lap, for an hour or maybe three. But Sugar Dog Man, or friend with a need, Sugar Dog boun' to fly. Cuz Sugar Dog bidness is callin', an' God alone knows why! But that ole special Sugar Dog Man-- What keeps the Sugar Dog Luhhv Bed-- He know Sugar Dog will surely come home For to pillow her silky soft head. ~Susan Hinton~ |
Subject: The Submarine Kursk by IanC From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 09:08 AM The Submarine Kursk by IanC (Tune: Lady Franklin's Lament) IanC's Comments: Roger wrote: "I am pessimistic that the belated rescue attempts will be in time, I fear that someone will be composing a ballad to a lost brave crew on the lines of the "Springhill Mine Disaster" soon." He's obviously been proved right, though what was going round in my mind was the Franklin expedition rather than Springhill. Quite uncharacteristically, whilst commuting to and from work, a song developed. This is the first and probably the only song I'll write, but I've posted it here for what it's worth. Perhaps somebody will make something useful out of it. The last two verses were originally alternative endings, but I've kept both. One Sunday morning I lay half-awake My thoughts confused by my sleepy state When first I heard on the radio The fate of The Kursk and all of her crew Whilst cruising slowly neath the Barents Sea A great explosion, by some mystery, Opened a hole in the bow, and then, She went to bottom there with all her men Some said there was news, and some said none, Some said that all their air, it had all gone The Russian Navy couldn't get her free For stormy weather and the rolling sea Those seafaring peoples they called upon Britain and Norway sent both crew and men While day on day the time passed by If any had lived, we fear they'll die And when the Kursk was opened in the deep Wives, parents, comrades they had cause to weep The Kursk was flooded, all its men long drowned Only dead bodies was all that they found Ye bold submariners, as you pass by Take ye the glass, but don't drink it dry Think on their fate as their bodies lie Trapped and drowning in the Barents Sea And, yes, my memory it does give me pain Thoughts of all the mariners the sea has slain The ocean cruel no pity gives Nor yet a tear in its eyes do live © Ian Chandler, 23-08-00 |
Subject: Slug Songs (2) by Metchosin From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 09:06 AM Slug Songs (2) by Metchosin Mighty Hermaphroditey (To the Tune of the Beverly Hillbillies) Oh I'm mighty Hermaphroditey And I leave a slimey trail And I don't know how to tell My horny "head" from little "tail". But it doesn't really matter For each paramour I find, Slip-sliding down the garden path, Is also gender blind. Well that's the way we romp and play Yes, me and all my kin So kindly spare the salt and beer It's like to do us in And remember in the garden, When you see that silver line, Our speeds not slow, as swingers go Some think it's 69. (And because I don't know when to quit….) The Banana Slug Song (To the tune of Chiquita Banana) I'm Hermita Banana and I've come to say We slugs swing in a special way Before el fresco dining on the doggy doo We Pulmonata Lumbada the whole night through You will find us in your garden We have the telescoping eye-ayes For Kamasu-ta-ra positions We would surely win the prize But Bananas like it cool not at the very, very tropical equator So check your Organic produce, in your refrigerator. |
Subject: Sing It Elsewhere by The Shambles From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 09:05 AM Sing It Elsewhere by The Shambles The Shambles' Comments: To be sung to the tune of Villikins and his Dinah - the Yetties, Threshing Machine (Sling it here, sling it there, and if your standing by, then your all get your share). (For information on the subject of this song, please go to this thread) Sing it here Sing it there For the sake of the landlord Please sing it elsewhere Important to us, is to be able to sing And thought by many, to be very fine thing But councils officials, who can count up to three Are making outlaws of you and of me I bring you news of a terrible fact Singing in pubs is a criminal act At the moment you're safe if there's only two But there's even worse news, in the Parliament due The two in a bar rule is to be taken away From now on, no one will be able to play Folk songs from England or music from France Without permission sought well in advance They say you can't sing, "public safety I'm afraid" It would seem to be fine, if your not paid? Its only the Minister that quite understands How the pub is unsafe, just when 'money changes hands' And the lads can crowd in, watch their team on TV Need no, permission or a safe capacity Can shout all they wish and nothing is wrong Only, needing permission to burst into song Football supporters with money to burn Can wake up the neighbours, with no apparent concern But you and the 'missus', you'd better beware When you quietly burst into 'Scarborough Fair' I would like you all to write your MP Its time that they listened to you and to me I don't know about you but I think this a farce To hear politicians speak out of their ....(dispatch box) Sing it here Sing it there For the sake of the landlord Please sing it elsewhere |
Subject: The Ship from Old Russky (Mir) by mousethief From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 09:03 AM The Ship from Old Russky (Mir) by mousethief (Tune: The Girl from Ipanema) Busted panels, hull is splintered The Russian pride spaceship re-enters And when it falls in a fiery ball, it goes shhhhhhhh! Set more records than Lougainis Made the Soviet Space program famous But now it's falling into the ocean with a shhhhhhh! Oh, it cost millions of rubles Now it's space junk, and in troooble If it hits where they think it will hit That's cool, but if not, then oh shit! Big and heavy, chunks of titanium (At least we're glad there's no uranium) When it falls, hope it misses Christchurch -- oh well. Shhhhhhh! Kosmonauts' eyes fill with tears Remembering all of those years That it hung like a star in the sky Now like glasnost, too soon it must die Cos the president of the U.S. Wants to forge ahead and screw us With missile shields, the cold war is back. Oh well. Shhhhhh. Copyright ©2001 Alex E. Riggle. All Rights Reserved. |
Subject: RE: Aine's Mudcat Songbook PermaThread From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 09:01 AM The Sex Life of Chinchillas by mousethief We can talk about the Irish problem, Earwigs, lice, and roaches But there's one subject we will not breach That never will encroach us We can talk about sex, and God, and Goddess, Birth and death and war, But don't bring up Little Hawk's chinchilla That's not what Mudcat is for! (Chorus:) The sex life of chinchillas Is way off bounds, it's true! Although it might've thrilled us To learn how those things screw The sex life of chinchillas We mustn't talk about Or Little Hawk might just get mad And sit right down and pout Now we can talk about gun control And politics and drugs And things that make your mother faint Like gross brain-drilling bugs But Little Hawk's Chinchilla Is very shy and proper We mustn't mention boy chinchillas We have seen atop her (repeat chorus) © Alex Riggle 2000 |
Subject: Reload! by Author Unknown (submitted by Patrish) From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 09:00 AM Reload! by Author Unknown (submitted by Patrish) (Sung to the tune of "Rawhide!") Loading, loading, loading, Damn this Java coding, Feeling of foreboding, Reload! The Applet says it's running, And that big gray block is stunning, But the screen remains as blank as my mind Netscape crash, Boot 'em up! Net goes down, Dial back! Logging on, Still off-line! Reload! Try it now, Still not up! Netscape crashed, What, again? Boot it up, Log it in, Reload! Tighten, tweaking', smoothen, They say the codes improvin', So how come I'm still usin' "reload"? I'm tired of all this waitin', Just give me .gif animation, This code is only good for wasting time, The applet says it's running, And gray block is quite stunning, But the screen remains as blank as my mind, (Midi solo) beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, Netscape crash, Boot 'em up! Net goes down, Dial back! Logging on, Still off-line! Reload! Try it now, Still not up! Netscape crashed, What, again? Boot it up, Log it in, Reload! Reload! - Author Unknown |
Subject: Post-Apocalyptic Frenzy Letdown by Jeri From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 08:58 AM Post-Apocalyptic Frenzy Letdown by Jeri Jeri's Comments: I murdered the poor defenseless Jock Stewart - the link to the tune's at the bottom of that page. Now, my name is Jock Stewart I'm paranoid man, And a careful young fellow, I've been. Don't be easy and free When you're dealin' wi' me. I'm a man you don't meet every day. I have acres of land; A bomb shelter grand; I have always a gun aimed at you. Now, I took out my gun, With my dog I did hide, In my shelter for chaos to come I'm in a terrible mood But I've got lots of food And whiskey to drive care away I watched the year change And I thought it so strange When everything worked the next day I fell victim to fears Now I'm in beans to my ears And below ground I think I'll just stay. |
Subject: The Panda Hall/Tait by Calach From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 08:57 AM The Panda Hall/Tait by Calach (Tune: The Roads And The Miles To Dundee) Cold Winter was howling, and the Panda was growling, He was wandering the streets cause the pubs had all closed. Up came a wee lassie, and said "Mr. Panda, Would you like to come with me, your nose is all frozed?" She was dressed like a hooker, but still quite a looker, But the high heels and lipstick, they gave it away. But the Panda went with her, cause his body was shivering' And he needed some food and a warm place to stay. They walked back together, in the cold wintry weather. She took him upstairs to her well-used address. She asked what he wanted, as she cuddled the Panda And he went up to bed with his little temptress. Although now he was warm, he couldn't perform He needed some food, he'd not eaten all day. She cooked him some fried rice, bamboo shoots and bean sprouts, Some nice lemon chicken and a chocolate soufflé From the table they rose, and he took off her clothes, Made love all night long, till the first break of dawn. Then he got out of bed, and he said to the lassie, "So long to you darling, I now must be gone." Says she, "No my honey, you owe me some money. It's required for my living; for a prostitute I be." "But I am a Panda, and I don't pay for loving, We'll solve our dispute with a dictionary." They looked at the book, for the meaning of hooker, "A girl paid for loving, who never conceives." Her threw her the book and she read with amazement All it said about Pandas was "Eats shoots and leaves." |
Subject: Ode To Thread Creep by Harry From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 08:54 AM Ode To Thread Creep by Harry Read a story 'bout a week ago Feelin lazy the day was slow 'Bout a fellow who was lookin for a song he heard Couldn't really play it but he knew all the words Said 'It's a song bout a girl who went to France Didn't know where exactly but she took a chance, Can anyone out there help me figure this out I'm sure someone can I don't have any doubt Chorus: Thread Creep, Thread Creep, why can't the subject just keep? If I ask a question to help knowledge expand Can't you stay with the subject at hand? Fellow wrote back 'I went to Paris before Had a great time couldn't ask for more Around the Arc de Triumph, lots of traffic congestion Not really sure if I answered your question Another one said, 'I was congested last week Felt really bad, well I could hardly speak Now I hate to complain, through my nasal congestion But why ain't this thread about a musical question?!? Chorus: Thread Creep, Thread Creep why can't the subject just keep? If I ask a question to help knowledge expand Can't you stay with the subject at hand? |
Subject: Ode To The Captain's Hearts by Kelida and Mbo From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 08:53 AM Ode To The Captain's Hearts by Kelida and Mbo We loved you for your heart of gold We liked the other ones, too, if truth be told. We'll miss your laughter and your smile, We'll miss the way you went the extra mile. We loved your sweet heart, it tasted nice, Especially now, steamed and served over rice. We'll miss you now that you're dead and gone, But we thought it might be nice to write you this song. We even loved your heart of stone Although its weight sometimes made you groan We'll miss your insults, all good-natured fun, And we'll never forget you talent for puns. We sometimes loved your cheatin' heart Except when you beat us at cards We'll miss the way you stacked the deck, And we'll miss the way you cracked your neck. We loved to see your heart or hearts With all it's icky slimy parts Ventricles and coronaries The color blood of boysenberries. |
Subject: My First Love by Amergin From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 07:27 AM My First Love by Amergin As I went in the pub one day I heard the fiddles playing The drums were beating And the singer braying I walked up to the bar And sat upon the stool Looking at the counter top My mouth began to drool Upon the bar she sat before me Bubbling with her female wiles I sat staring in wonderment As she flashed me with her smiles Her light brown hair flowed down Caressing the curves of her breasts I laughed and grinned at the blood Forcing the thumping in my chest Chorus: Oh, she looked so sweet, her body like glass Never will I forget the taste of this dark lass Her black limbs stretched out Before me shining with dew She leaned towards me laughing And so my faint hopes grew She bent down to me mouth gaping Tongue flickering as we kissed She tasted thick and bitter I stared at her in the smoky mist We kissed again and yet again Each time hotter and longer Her spit filling me with warmth Til my love could grow no stronger I whisper softly into her hair As it swirls down her smooth throat She sighs and sizzles in quiet lust At each love song I gently quote (Chorus) My thoughts fade off into smoke As I drink in her loving milk It flows down heating my gullet Coating my insides with its silk I look up to watch the band Feeling the beat of the song I drift my eyes back to the bar To find that she has gone Final Chorus: Six years have passed and gone since that blissful night I still think of my first love and my cheeks shining bright |
Subject: My Bodhrán Is Too Tight by Troll From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 07:25 AM My Bodhrán Is Too Tight by Troll My bodhrán is too tight. My bodhrán is too tight. I sweat and toil, With grease and oil, and still the tones not right. My bodhrán is too tight. My bodhrán is too tight. I've tried neetsfoot, And oily soot, My hands they look a fright. It's such a bummer. I've tried each thing that anyone's suggested. And for a drummer, It's hard to play a drum that sounds congested. And I've protested. My bodhrán is too tight. My bodhrán is too tight. Since I can't play It any way. I'll do it just for spite! My bodhrán is too tight. My bodhrán is too tight. The fiddler's mad. That's too damn bad! I'm gonna play all night! |
Subject: Mudcat's Y2K For What It's Worth by Dave (the anci From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 07:24 AM Mudcat's Y2K For What It's Worth by Dave (the ancient mariner) Dave's Comments: Ladies and Gentlemen, for your edification and delight. A short song written on the spur of the Y2K moment. I present . . . (with suitable and profuse apologies to Buffalo Springfield): There's something happening here What it is ain't exactly clear There's Bill Gates with a sign over there Telling me I got to prepare I think it's time we stop, Children what's that sound Y2K is coming around There's credit lines being withdrawn MacIntosh is right if Microsoft is wrong Young people going online Getting so much Internet before it's time I think it's time we stop, Hey what's that sound Microsoft maybe going down What a field-day without heat Millions shivering in the street Carrying MacIntosh and Microsoft signs Saying I'll gladly pay for more Millennium time It's time we stop, Hey what's that sound The Internet may be going down Paranoia strikes deep Into your threads it will creep It starts when you're always online You come offline, Y2K comes and takes it away We better stop, Hey what's that sound Microsoft may be going down Stop hey what's that sound Everybody Internet is going down Stop now, what's that sound Traffic lights will be falling down Stop children what's that sound Bugger all happened, I'm going downtown |
Subject: The Mudcat Tavern Anthem by Susan A-R, Bert, Áine, From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 07:23 AM The Mudcat Tavern Anthem by Susan A-R, Bert, Áine, Mían, and Alice Áine's Comments: You just had to be there -- Don't Dream It! BE IT! S'paw's at the door again, Yeah, THAT door Cleigh's cleaned the shrimp up and he's whistling for more Roger's smashing tiples (What's a hammer for??) And it's Thursday at the Mudcat Tavern Mick's in the kitchen Cooking something great MMario's looking baffled At the brownies he just ate THE FAIR ONE's in the jello pit (Mick starts to salivate) And it's Friday in the Mudcat Tavern The home computer users Are the only ones that's here, And all the worker lurkers Are home, crying in their beer But they'll be back the first thing Monday Don't you ever fear, And it's Saturday in The Mudcat Tavern Áine's stirring up her chili And as the cauldron boils, She casts a spell on HFA For spoiling Max's toils She smells and tastes and cackles (Mick salivates again) And it's Saturday in The Mudcat Tavern Tippling the Black Vile Stuff As east coast churchbells chime Or getting hammered in the buff On Wyo' Mountain Time It looks like Sunday, sure enuf', But while you read this rhyme It's Twilight Zone in the Mudcat Tavern. The worker lurkers join the club And catch up on the threads. They're giggling at what's in the tub They're poppin' Neil Young meds. They're looking o'er their shoulder now The boss is what they dread, And it's Monday at the Mudcat Tavern. S'paw comes in a bitchin At the door, the pets, the food (Yeaah, the yacks and the flamingos have been getting rather rude) But the man who blows a possum has no right to be a prude And it's Tuesday in the Mudcat Tavern. There's oysters in abundance And there's even spuds and crepes. I made myself a tango dress From old green velvet drapes. I've got a rose between my teeth, And Mario's peeling grapes, Oh, it's Wednesday at the Mudcat Tavern! |
Subject: Modern Magic by MMario From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 07:21 AM Modern Magic by MMario (To the tune: Who Is At My Window Weeping) Who is in the breakroom weeping Weeping there, so bitterly 'Tis I, 'Tis I, the waitress Cindy Tonight's the Prom, and I've not the fee Cindy, go and ask the bar-maid If she's a gown to lend to thee If it's not right, we'll find another And to the Prom, tonight go ye Cindy went and asked the bar-maid the gown it fit her to a tee her hair was combed, and quickly styled To the Prom, will go our fair Cindy Cindy, Go, and call your boyfriend The cook a tux to loan has he But do it now, and do it quickly or else it's late, that you shall be Cindy went and called her boyfriend The tux it fit him properly With cummerbund and velvet lapels To the Prom he goes, with the fair Cindy The boss then called his brother Vinnie who owed to him, a favour or three "Bring the limo round, and do it promptly To the Prom, you're driving our Cindy" From wallet, purse, and pocket deeply Friend and patron then drew free Payment for the door and dinner And dancing for the Fair Cindy A magic night, for two young lovers Made not with wand, or cast of spell But magic wrought by hearts so tender And friends that loved their Cindy well |
Subject: Missin' The Mudcat Blues by BSeed From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 07:19 AM Missin' The Mudcat Blues by BSeed bSeed's Comments: Last year in October we had a series of weekends when the threads wouldn't open: Max left town and everything went to hell in his absence. Three weeks in a row I wrote songs about what it was like to be without the threads. I got the blues 'cause the Mudcat's gone and crashed again; My God it hurts, the Mudcat's crashed again-- Good golly Miss Molly, when will them crashes end? I gotta have the 'cat, 'cause I got a lotta stuff to say; Oh, I need them threads 'cause I got so much to say. But Benjamin and Barry Finn and all the threads have gone away. I need Barbara and Art, I need Alison and Mick, With only silence from the swamps--I know I'm gettin' sick, Tim and Chet and Northfolk, you're gone but what can I do? I'd ask Joe Offer, but dammit, he's gone, too. With no Harpgirl and no Raven I'm stuck all alone in lonesome hell; Bill's in Alabama, and there's no Wolfgang here in hell, Roger, Pete, and Ewan, Mike and Murray, they're all gone as well. There's no word out of Brisbane, and Vancouver's quiet, too; There's no word out of Brisbane, and Vancouver's quiet, too. You gotta get me back on line, Max, 'cause what else can I do? I got the blues 'cause the Mudcat's gone and crashed again; My God it hurts, the Mudcat's crashed again-- Good golly Miss Molly, when will them crashes end? c. Charles Kratz (12/0ct/98) |
Subject: The Memory Banks of Mudcat by Catspaw49 From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 07:18 AM The Memory Banks of Mudcat by Catspaw49 (Tune: "Banks of the Ohio" ) Took my computer, Back to the store Like I'd done, Many times before My CPU, Went up in smoke Loading a thread, Named "What is Folk." Only say, It will be fine. And I can soon, Go back online. I'm 'Cattaddicted, Its plainly seen Now I can but stare, At this blank screen. I scan the threads, Ten times a day. So many have, So much to say. There's lots of songs, Lyrics in full Lots of talk, And lots of bull. Bruce O. knows songs, From times long past Spaw gives insults, Blows a possum's ass. Peter T.'s, Thought for the day Is that the heron, Will go away. Rick picks, Mick flirts, El Swanno can dive. And in Kat's garden, The faeries thrive. Mario sings, Leej talks of Blake And the Skiffler is, A total flake. In the shower, Alice sings. Pansy Rue, Does "other" things. The Fair One fends, Off Micks' advance. Alan of Oz, Wears her underpants. Art, Joe, and Seed, Help smooth the ruts. When gargoyle goes, Completely nuts. The Paton's are, Like a Mom and Dad Barbara gives her blessings, even when we're bad. Mudcat radio, On Wednesday night Will it crash? Well it just might. Max must work hard, We all admit 'Cause Ol' Bert can't, Remember shit. Computer's repaired! Pick it up at six. Then I can get, My Mudcat fix. Lord may it never, Go away. Great friends all, Mudcat Cafe. |
Subject: The Mbo Bop by Amos, Metchosin and Áine From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 07:16 AM The Mbo Bop by Amos, Metchosin and Áine (Tune: The Monster Mash) Chords: C~~~Am~~~~~F~~~~~~~~G They were gathered at the Mudcat, BanjoBonnie, Caitrin, Pop When the music started thumpin, and they started in to bop! WHat was it they were doing? That crazy dance so free!!?? Well they were doing the Mbo Bop, c'mon and do it just like me!! Chorus: They did the bop!! It was the Mbo Bop They did the bop! It was a folkies hop! They did the bop! It was the MBO Bop! They did the bop! They never want to stop! The place was really rockin' when the laughing kat strolled in, She jumped up on the table, yelled 'let the Mbo Bop begin!' Then Amos lit the candle and the flaming mousse ran by That's when the crowd began to flee, Mbo bopping on the fly! Chorus Joe Offer came a cruisin' in, his head upon a stick And the GUEST who never shall be named, came up to get a lick That's when the riot started and chocolate mousse began to spurt Spaw cried, "Don't touch it, suckah, or you're likely to get hurt!" Chorus Big Mick's Irish temper was beginning to flare Shambles and Bugsy his sentiments did share Seems their frustrations they could not conceal For they wanted to know if the rude guests were real Chorus Gargoyle from the crypt began to arise With a flamin' group The Kat Kicker Five Threw back the lid and shook his mouse, "Words of care and comfort? Not in my House! Chorus Witty banter and thread creep is the specialty Lyrics and tunes? They dish it out for free! Lemons into lemonade, when things go wrong, Down at the Mudcat they turn it into song! Chorus Lil' Mbo was caterwhalin' that his poem could not be heard For the crowd was Mbo Boppin' to Fats Waller and The Bird Max picked up his new dobro, played a chord, began to sing, "If you guys don't settle down now, I'll shut off the whole damn thing!" Chorus Well, they twisted and murmured, but began to settle down For the 'Cats all know to listen when the Max is in the town Mbo hisself took notice, said his party piece so neat And they hoisted him on high and Mbo Bopped into the street! Chorus So if chillblains and the fever have begun to get you down And you're ready to decapitate the nearest kid around! C'mon down to Mudcat heaven, just dispense with all the fuss, Where it's a treat to beat your feet and do The Mbo Bop with us! Chorus: They did the bop!! It was the Mbo Bop They did the bop! It was a folkies hop! They did the bop! It was the MBO Bop! They did the bop! They never want to stop! They did the Bop! |
Subject: May Your Sword Never Grow Rusty by Malveka From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 07:14 AM May Your Sword Never Grow Rusty by Malveka (Being A Toast to the Endangered Bachelor) - May your sword never grow rusty May your beard never grow thin Hark now the wisdom of sages You've got to be up to be in! Chorus: Come good fellow sit by me Take your pick of all good ale Lend me thine ear on your joining's eve And I'll toast thee without fail I say! I'll toast thee without fail! May your sword never grow rusty May life's blessings flow from the spout Just recall that the blessing of children May be yours if you don't pull out Chorus May your sword never grow rusty Won't you heed now the words of this clown Remember that after you're married 'Tis only computers that go down Chorus May your sword never grow rusty May your frame always be stout Be sure that you know all the exits When she gets the frying pan out Chorus May your sword never grow rusty May your love life never go bust But on those days when love isn't working Don't forget you've always got lust Chorus May your sword never grow rusty May you know that it often is quipped That vows will truly be tested When she tells you to get yourself snipped Chorus May your sword never grow rusty May you find yourself aging with grace But if on two legs you find yourself limping Oysters help keep your rod in the race Chorus May your sword never grow rusty But if perchance you find that it should Forget not the Falls of Niagra Though Viagra, they say, works as good Chorus May your sword never grow rusty Your delights each day renew And find as each year passes Your love has grown anew Chorus |
Subject: The Manchester Mudcat Ramble by Matthew Edwards From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 07:12 AM The Manchester Mudcat Ramble by Matthew Edwards (with profound apologies to Ewan MacColl) The White Lion on Friday will sure be a high day, When 'Cats sing and play music as well. And if you are lucky, then down at the Ducie, There'll be many fine stories to tell. Then its Pauline's in Failsworth on Sunday, For the ones who can get out of bed; But I'll be trying to part with my curry, And feeling I'd rather be dead. Chorus: I'm a Mudcat, I'm a Mudcat, down Machester way, I get all my pleasure the musical way. I may be a wageslave on Monday, But I am a singer on Sunday. |
Subject: The Lovely Ship The Mudcat by Kelida From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 07:11 AM The Lovely Ship The Mudcat by Kelida (Tune: "The Bonny Ship the Diamond" minus 1 verse) (Spoken: Space, the final frontier, where no Mudcat has ventured before. . .until now.) Sung: Oh the Mudcat is a ship, my friends, For the nebula she's bound And the bay it is all covered, with musicians all around Captain Trid, he gives the order, to shift into warp speed To a planet where the natives, they don't have a mouth to feed. Chorus: So, let's gear up, my friends, Let your voices sing out As the lovely ship the Mudcat, Goes to space to travel about. Around the Mudcat Tavern, the musicians gather 'round With their instruments close by them, and their voices lifting loud Don't you fret, you'll get your turn, you won't get left alone, After this, come one and all, and sing songs of your own. Here's health to the Albert Hansell, likewise the katlaughing Here's health to the wonderful Mbo, and the Mudcat, ship of fame; We'll wear our space suits now, and our Mudcat tee-shirts, too, When we return from space, my friends, we'll have many songs anew. © Bridget McKinney (2000) |
Subject: Love Bytes by Bradypus From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 07:08 AM Love Bytes by Bradypus Bradypus' Comments: There was a letter to the editor in today's (10-May-00) Daily Telegraph: "SIR - The episode of the "love bug" virus proves once again the truth of the old saying that the e-mail of the species is more deadly than the mail." After McGrath's contribution to Song Challenge 26, I couldn't resist ... (posted in this thread). For up to date communication the computer is the king And to get your message over e-mail seems to be the thing But one fact is oft neglected, and it makes our systems fail For the e-mail of the species is more deadly than the mail For the junk we get by snail mail simply lands upon the mat And it's dormant and it's lifeless as it lies there rather flat But the junk we get by e-mail seems to tell a different tale For the e-mail of the species is more deadly than the mail First the message says 'I love you', then you find that you're infected And you wish you'd taken measures for to keep yourself protected As in life, so with computers, and it makes you quake and quail For the e-mail of the species is more deadly than the mail It infects your words and pictures, your jpeg and mp3 And makes you wish you'd never seen extension vbe Your address book is subverted, all your friends will weep and wail For the e-mail of the species is more deadly than the mail We can hardly do without it, though we know the risks it brings For it's faster and it's slicker, like so many e-type things But whene'er it's out of kilter it can turn the strongest pale For the e-mail of the species is more deadly than the mail. |
Subject: Lament Of A Guardsman by Amergin From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 07:07 AM Lament Of A Guardsman by Amergin (Tune: Long Black Veil) Amergin's Comments: Just wrote this a few minutes ago. P.S. I wasn't there either, was only born 4 years later. But that doesn't stop me from feeling the pain, the anger, the sorrow for those that were shot down and for those that did the shooting. Let us not forget. Blessed be. My tribute to Kent State: Thirty years ago on the Fourth of May Four students died that warm spring day The people who ran they all agreed The man with the gun looked a lot like me Now I walk these halls water in my eyes I still hear out night all the mournful cries Nobody sees all the dropping tears Nobody wants to hear The protest was hot, and tensions were high When a shot rang out, I saw the first one die I said not a word, but fired into the crowd The stains on my hands, echo oh so loud We were a-firing, and tossing the tear gas bombs While they went running across the common lawns And when the smoke had cleared, it was painful to hear The cries of the dying and the wounded so near I was just a boy and little did I know That on that fateful spring day, I lost my soul Still I walk these halls, water in my eyes I still hear at night all the mournful cries Nobody sees all the dropping tears Nobody wants to hear |
Subject: I Think We're Not Alone Now by mousethief From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 07:00 AM I Think We're Not Alone Now by mousethief (Tune: I Think We're Alone Now) I think we're not alone now There does seem to be some aliens arou-hound I think we're not alone now The whirring of their ships is the only sou-hound Humans, behave That's what they say when they release us And watch what you say They won't believe you And so we're telling everybody we can We were in the aliens' hands Calling the Art Bell show late in the night And then we're stuck on hold forever Then we're on the air -- all right! -- and then we say: I think we're not alone now... © 2001 Alex Riggle. All Rights Reserved. |
Subject: The Famous Yacht Alinghi by Schantieman From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 05:31 AM The Famous Yacht Alinghi by Schantieman (Tune: Dunno what it's called. Same as (stolen from) Miles Wootton's 'Great Fish Finger Disaster') Schantieman's Comments: First draft. Needs some honing. Oh come all you brave young yachtsmen, who sail the stormy deep I'll tell to you a secret which you must forever keep, Concerning that bold sail-i-or, Russell Coutts it is his name And he sailed the yacht Alinghi; from Switzerland it came. With Jochen Schümann by his side in Auckland he set sail All for to win America's cup, he knew he must not fail. The Gnomes of Zurich backed them, and they pleaded on their knees: Oh bring us back a box of holes for Emmenthaler cheese! In Schnackenburg, the Kiwi boat, they had a great tactician His sails and legal knowledge they did help them on their mission Th'Alinghi overcame them all, it nearly drove them barmy Coz they all had knives they'd gotten from the world-renowned Swiss Army. With army knives about their waists on Kevlar lanyards worn They set about the Kiwi boat as to the manner born Removing of her fish-scales and the horses' hooves as well With their magnifying glasses they did cause her hul9l to swell. Well the series it was over and the Kiwis had been beaten. For far too much Swiss choc-o-late by them, it had been eaten The famous yacht Alinghi, was first into the dock But they found they'd been and timed the race with a crooked cuckoo clock! Copyright © Steve Freedman December 2002 |
Subject: Is It Only In The Stories Miracles Happen by Great From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 05:27 AM Is It Only In The Stories Miracles Happen by GreatGoo Is it only in the stories miracles happen As the magic of the evening comes to play Are the happy endings only In our hearts, and so it seems Or can we bring our fondest dreams into the day A young woman found herself At a crossroads in her life Torn apart by a vanishing hope And another passing day With no choices left to pick from She turned back to what she must Hid her tears inside her heart And went along her way Is it only in the stories miracles happen As the magic of the evening comes to play Are the happy endings only In our hearts, and so it seems Or can we bring our fondest dreams into the day Others too have been here Where the rough edge makes you cry Where our fantasy's are tattered As the world goes swiftly by But we can change the ending Out of kindness, out of love And mend a shattered dream In a very simple way Is it only in the stories miracles happen As the magic of the evening comes to play Are the happy endings only In our hearts, and so it seems Or can we bring our fondest dreams into the day It's the little bits that each of us Can add that make the whole The little things we do To push the hurt away As each gives to the dream We regain what we have lost And prove It doesn't have to end that way Is it only in the stories miracles happen As the magic of the evening comes to play Are the happy endings only In our hearts, and so it seems Or can we bring our fondest dreams into the day |
Subject: I Wanna Go Down by Amergin From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 05:25 AM I Wanna Go Down by Amergin I wanna go down to Jackson, Mississippi I wanna go down, to protest the war I wanna go down to Jackson, Mississippi To hear, to hear the students roar I wanna go down to the university I wanna go down just to learn I wanna go down to the university To watch, to watch the fires burn I wanna walk down around the school I wanna walk down across the lots I wanna walk down around the school To feel, to feel the pistol shots I wanna run down into the open door I wanna run down into the women's dorm I wanna run down into the open door To smell, to smell the coming storm I wanna go back into our tragic past I wanna go back, back those thirty years I wanna go back into our tragic past To taste, to taste the stinging tears I don't want this to ever happen again We don't need to be caught within their net This tragedy will never happen again Unless, unless, unless we all forget I wanna go down to Jackson, Mississippi I wanna go down, to protest the war I wanna go down to Jackson, Mississippi To hear, to hear the students roar |
Subject: How Many Folkies Does It Take To Change A Lightbul From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 05:21 AM How Many Folkies Does It Take To Change A Lightbulb? by Amos (Tune: Blowin' In The Wind) Tell me how many folkies need to change a light bulb Before the light bulb stays changed? An' how many Mudcats need to add to the list Before they get home on the range? And how many answers does one man have to see Before he can see that they're strange? The answer, old bloke, Is just a Mudcat joke! The answer is just a Mudcat joke. Yes, an' how many threads must a man run down Before the Kat makes him grin AN' how many Possum whistles must ol' SPaw sell Before possum whistles get him? An' how many times mus' Mbo be pronounced Before it begins to sink in? The answer, old bloke Is jes' a Mudcat joke! The answer is just a Mudcat joke! (Rasp, rasp wheeze wheeze, raw raw) Kaching kaching G Am Bm D ad infinitum |
Subject: Golden Colorado by tradsteve From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 05:19 AM Golden Colorado by tradsteve Tune: I Ain't Got No Home We've dug ourselves a hole here in Golden Colorado We've all this water that has nowhere to go We let our fears get the best, now we've water to our chest We've dug ourselves a hole in Golden Colorado Take two or three baths a day and scrub behind your ears Nothing left for you to do but wallow in your fears. New Years was not that bad so shouldn't we all be so glad? Now drink a glass and water the grass before it all goes bad. Stockpiled spam can be a salty treat Might as well wash it down with water while you eat. Fill your pool nice and deep and hope the chlorine keeps Have a heart and do your part in Golden Colorado The water is a-ready and a-itchin' to be used Waste it while it's there and ready to be abused Use your toilet paper rolls and flush those toilet bowls Flush us out of our hole in Golden Colorado Two million gallons is an awful lot But we thought by Y2K the computers would be shot So waste the water while you can and lend a helping hand Drink us out of our hole in Golden Colorado! |
Subject: Gastronomic Passions by Amos From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 05:18 AM Gastronomic Passions by Amos Annie's scones and Caitrin's cookies They could satiate a Wookie They're the sweetest treats what am! With Kahlua, cream and jam! Wrap your tongue around this fashion! And you'll know true Gaelic passion! They're the best things ever tasted! Any more than a mouthful's wasted! Now, dear Annie, don't be modest You're our own, A Gaelic goddess! And its you we're dreaming of When we sing of Irish love And sweet Caitrin, so retirin' Mbo finds you so inspiring! Nothing shakes a folkie's bones Like Caitrin's cookies and Annie's scones! |
Subject: Fred Dyer's Bees by Amos From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 05:16 AM Fred Dyer's Bees by Amos (Tune: The Big Rock Candy Mountain) In a far off lane, lined with sugar cane Where the honeybees go walkin' In a big white van, came a science-man, All worked up to do some stalking As he drove along, he hummed a song And thought of hives and honey! For he'd had a dream, and dreamt up a scheme That would earn him lotsa money! Chorus: Ohhhhhhh the buzzing of the Queen on the radar screen! The flapping of transistors! And the glue that binds on the bee's beehinds Of the drones and all their sisters! Now this science lug was in love with bugs And was handy with the solder! He drummed up a grant, by composing cant 'Bout the queen bee, and her daughters There's no way to know how he flung the snow In his guileful composition But it sure was hot, cuz the fellow got A rich research position! Chorus So he bought himself a six-foot shelf Of scopes and lab things fancy And equipped with these, he went hunting bees With a postgrad aide named Nancy. They would grab the drones from their waxy homes As they left for work, Fred gottem! With epoxy glue and a diode or two They would wire up their bottoms! Chorus Now its hard to tell what this science swell Is learning from these workers! Cuz him and Nan they sit back in the van Watching 'scopes and eating burgers. Yelling "North!" and "whoa!" on the radio As their labmates sweat for hours Running zig zag trails through the hills and dales While the bees make calls on flowers! Chorus Now this fella Fred has got quite the head For acquiring research dollars And he'll run this show where the honeybees grow 'Til someone tips off the scholars Then he'll grab a flight, in the dark of night And a new girl, named Amanda And theyll make a try, tracking tsetse flies For the gummint of Rwanda! Ohh, the buzzing of the Queen on the radar screen The flapping of transistors! And the glue that binds to the bees beehinds On the queen and all her sisters! |
Subject: Farewell… by Amergin From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 05:14 AM Farewell… by Amergin (Tune: Hobo's Lullaby) Farewell, my weary steel mill Let your foundries slowly die; The gates are closing behind me As I wipe tears in my eyes. PGE jacked their rates up; EPA decreased the water flow. There're forest fires in Idaho All the reasons they need to know. Workers at Kaiser are still striking For jobs that are barely even there; The corporations are now laughing At the worried faces everywhere. Now the smoke is no longer rising The emptiness is bearing down; The mill is in a blanket of darkness As the car slowly leaves the town…. |
Subject: These Lyrics Are Explicit by Bradypus From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 05:12 AM These Lyrics Are Explicit by Bradypus These lyrics are explicit. They mean just what they say. There is have no hidden baggage They're plain and clear as day They don't avoid the subject They use four-letter words They are not mean, or mealy-mouthed For that would be absurd To post explicit lyrics Can seem somehow to vex But these lyrics are explicit And explicitly not about sex! |
Subject: Empty Nester's Blues by Amos From: bradfordian Date: 12 Oct 16 - 05:10 AM Empty Nester's Blues by Amos (Originally posted on this thread) Well, I woke up this morning, I did not feel my best. Well, I woke up this morning, did not feel at my best. My offspring all left me, just a big ole empty nest! I went down to the kitchen, not a dish was out of place I went down to the kitchen, nothin was out of place. You wouldn't have believed the look upon my face! Went down the hall, there were no clothes on the floor! I went down the hall, saw no clothes on the floor! I said to myself, I don't think I can take much more! Over in the bedroom, that bed was made up tight! Well I looked in the bedroom, that bed was made up tight! Everything was in order, but something sure wasn't right! Well I'm rattling around here like an old die in a cup I'm just rattling around like a gambler's lucky cup! Ain't nobody screaming, an' nobody cuttin' up! You can tell yo' sistah, you can tell yo' brother too. You can tell yo' sister, an' tell your brother too. Ya bettah call up yo' Mama, she's getting them Empty Nest blues!! |
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