Lyrics & Knowledge Personal Pages Record Shop Auction Links Radio & Media Kids Membership Help
The Mudcat Cafemuddy

Post to this Thread - Printer Friendly - Home
Page: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20] [21] [22] [23] [24] [25] [26] [27] [28] [29] [30] [31] [32] [33] [34] [35] [36] [37] [38] [39] [40] [41] [42] [43] [44] [45] [46] [47] [48] [49] [50] [51] [52] [53] [54] [55] [56] [57] [58] [59] [60] [61] [62] [63] [64] [65] [66] [67] [68] [69] [70] [71] [72] [73] [74] [75] [76] [77] [78] [79] [80] [81] [82] [83] [84] [85] [86] [87] [88] [89] [90] [91] [92] [93] [94] [95] [96] [97] [98] [99] [100] [101] [102] [103] [104] [105] [106] [107] [108] [109] [110] [111] [112] [113] [114] [115] [116] [117] [118] [119] [120] [121] [122] [123] [124] [125] [126] [127] [128] [129] [130] [131] [132] [133] [134] [135] [136] [137] [138] [139] [140] [141] [142] [143] [144] [145] [146] [147] [148] [149] [150] [151] [152] [153] [154] [155] [156] [157] [158] [159] [160] [161] [162] [163] [164] [165] [166] [167] [168] [169] [170] [171] [172] [173] [174] [175] [176] [177] [178] [179] [180] [181] [182] [183] [184] [185] [186] [187] [188] [189] [190] [191] [192] [193] [194] [195] [196] [197] [198] [199] [200] [201] [202] [203] [204] [205] [206] [207] [208] [209] [210] [211] [212] [213] [214] [215] [216] [217] [218] [219] [220] [221] [222] [223] [224] [225] [226] [227] [228] [229] [230] [231] [232] [233] [234] [235] [236] [237] [238] [239] [240] [241] [242] [243] [244] [245] [246] [247] [248] [249] [250] [251] [252] [253] [254] [255] [256] [257] [258] [259] [260] [261] [262] [263] [264] [265] [266] [267] [268] [269] [270] [271] [272] [273] [274] [275] [276] [277] [278] [279] [280] [281] [282] [283] [284] [285] [286] [287] [288] [289] [290] [291] [292] [293] [294] [295] [296] [297] [298] [299] [300] [301] [302] [303] [304] [305] [306] [307] [308] [309] [310] [311] [312] [313] [314] [315] [316] [317] [318] [319] [320] [321] [322] [323] [324] [325] [326] [327] [328] [329] [330] [331] [332] [333] [334] [335] [336] [337] [338] [339] [340] [341] [342] [343] [344] [345] [346] [347] [348] [349] [350] [351] [352] [353] [354] [355] [356] [357] [358] [359] [360] [361] [362] [363] [364] [365] [366] [367] [368] [369] [370] [371] [372] [373] [374] [375] [376] [377] [378] [379] [380] [381] [382] [383] [384] [385] [386] [387] [388] [389] [390] [391] [392] [393] [394] [395] [396] [397] [398] [399] [400] [401] [402] [403] [404] [405] [406] [407] [408] [409] [410] [411] [412] [413] [414] [415] [416] [417] [418] [419] [420] [421] [422] [423] [424] [425] [426] [427] [428] [429] [430] [431] [432] [433] [434] [435] [436] [437] [438] [439] [440] [441] [442] [443] [444] [445] [446] [447] [448] [449] [450] [451] [452] [453] [454] [455] [456] [457] [458] [459] [460] [461] [462] [463] [464] [465] [466] [467] [468] [469] [470] [471] [472] [473] [474] [475] [476] [477] [478] [479] [480] [481] [482] [483] [484] [485] [486] [487] [488] [489] [490] [491] [492] [493] [494] [495] [496] [497] [498] [499] [500] [501] [502] [503] [504] [505] [506] [507] [508] [509] [510] [511] [512] [513] [514] [515] [516] [517] [518] [519] [520] [521] [522] [523] [524] [525] [526] [527] [528] [529] [530] [531] [532] [533] [534] [535] [536] [537] [538] [539] [540] [541] [542] [543] [544] [545] [546] [547] [548] [549] [550] [551] [552] [553] [554] [555] [556] [557] [558] [559] [560] [561] [562] [563] [564] [565] [566] [567] [568] [569] [570] [571] [572] [573] [574] [575] [576] [577] [578] [579] [580] [581] [582] [583] [584] [585] [586] [587] [588] [589] [590] [591] [592] [593] [594] [595] [596] [597] [598] [599] [600] [601] [602] [603] [604] [605] [606] [607] [608] [609] [610] [611] [612] [613] [614] [615] [616] [617] [618] [619] [620] [621] [622] [623] [624] [625] [626] [627] [628] [629] [630] [631] [632] [633] [634] [635] [636] [637] [638] [639] [640] [641] [642] [643] [644] [645] [646] [647] [648] [649] [650] [651] [652] [653] [654] [655] [656] [657] [658] [659] [660] [661] [662] [663] [664] [665] [666] [667] [668] [669] [670] [671] [672] [673] [674] [675] [676] [677] [678] [679] [680] [681] [682] [683] [684] [685] [686] [687] [688] [689] [690] [691] [692] [693] [694] [695] [696] [697] [698] [699] [700] [701] [702] [703] [704] [705] [706] [707] [708] [709] [710] [711] [712] [713] [714] [715] [716] [717] [718] [719] [720] [721] [722] [723] [724] [725] [726] [727] [728] [729] [730] [731] [732] [733] [734] [735] [736] [737] [738] [739] [740] [741] [742] [743] [744] [745] [746] [747] [748] [749] [750] [751] [752] [753] [754] [755] [756] [757] [758] [759] [760] [761] [762] [763] [764] [765] [766] [767] [768] [769] [770] [771] [772] [773] [774] [775] [776] [777] [778] [779] [780] [781] [782] [783] [784] [785] [786] [787] [788] [789] [790] [791] [792] [793] [794] [795] [796] [797] [798] [799] [800] [801] [802] [803] [804] [805] [806] [807] [808] [809] [810] [811] [812] [813] [814] [815] [816] [817] [818] [819] [820] [821] [822] [823] [824] [825] [826] [827] [828] [829] [830] [831] [832] [833] [834] [835] [836] [837] [838] [839] [840] [841] [842] [843] [844] [845] [846] [847] [848] [849] [850] [851] [852] [853] [854] [855] [856] [857] [858] [859] [860] [861] [862] [863] [864] [865] [866] [867] [868] [869] [870] [871] [872] [873] [874] [875] [876] [877] [878] [879] [880] [881] [882] [883] [884] [885] [886] [887] [888] [889] [890] [891] [892] [893] [894] [895] [896] [897] [898] [899] [900] [901] [902] [903] [904] [905] [906] [907] [908] [909] [910] [911] [912] [913] [914] [915] [916] [917] [918] [919] [920] [921] [922] [923] [924] [925] [926] [927] [928] [929] [930] [931] [932] [933] [934] [935] [936] [937] [938] [939] [940] [941] [942] [943] [944] [945] [946] [947] [948] [949] [950] [951] [952] [953] [954] [955] [956] [957] [958] [959] [960] [961] [962] [963] [964] [965] [966] [967] [968] [969] [970] [971] [972] [973] [974] [975] [976] [977] [978] [979] [980] [981] [982] [983] [984] [985] [986] [987] [988] [989] [990] [991] [992] [993] [994] [995] [996] [997] [998] [999] [1000] [1001] [1002] [1003] [1004] [1005] [1006] [1007] [1008] [1009] [1010] [1011] [1012] [1013] [1014] [1015] [1016] [1017] [1018] [1019] [1020] [1021] [1022] [1023] [1024] [1025] [1026] [1027] [1028] [1029] [1030] [1031] [1032] [1033] [1034] [1035] [1036] [1037] [1038] [1039] [1040] [1041] [1042] [1043] [1044] [1045] [1046] [1047] [1048] [1049] [1050] [1051] [1052] [1053] [1054] [1055] [1056] [1057] [1058] [1059] [1060] [1061] [1062] [1063] [1064] [1065] [1066] [1067] [1068] [1069] [1070] [1071] [1072] [1073] [1074] [1075] [1076] [1077] [1078] [1079] [1080] [1081] [1082] [1083] [1084] [1085] [1086] [1087] [1088] [1089] [1090] [1091] [1092] [1093] [1094] [1095] [1096] [1097] [1098] [1099] [1100] [1101] [1102] [1103] [1104] [1105] [1106] [1107] [1108] [1109] [1110] [1111] [1112] [1113] [1114] [1115] [1116] [1117] [1118] [1119] [1120] [1121] [1122] [1123] [1124] [1125] [1126] [1127] [1128] [1129] [1130] [1131] [1132] [1133] [1134]


BS: The Mother of all BS threads

Acme 18 Apr 06 - 11:44 AM
Rapparee 18 Apr 06 - 10:57 AM
Amos 18 Apr 06 - 09:36 AM
MMario 18 Apr 06 - 08:56 AM
Rapparee 18 Apr 06 - 08:54 AM
Acme 18 Apr 06 - 12:26 AM
Acme 18 Apr 06 - 12:23 AM
Acme 18 Apr 06 - 12:23 AM
Acme 18 Apr 06 - 12:20 AM
Acme 18 Apr 06 - 12:18 AM
Acme 18 Apr 06 - 12:15 AM
Acme 18 Apr 06 - 12:14 AM
Acme 18 Apr 06 - 12:11 AM
Acme 18 Apr 06 - 12:10 AM
Rapparee 17 Apr 06 - 10:45 PM
beardedbruce 17 Apr 06 - 10:04 PM
Rapparee 17 Apr 06 - 10:03 PM
beardedbruce 17 Apr 06 - 10:00 PM
Amos 17 Apr 06 - 09:56 PM
Bee-dubya-ell 17 Apr 06 - 09:49 PM
beardedbruce 17 Apr 06 - 09:42 PM
beardedbruce 17 Apr 06 - 09:37 PM
Bee-dubya-ell 17 Apr 06 - 09:20 PM
Amos 17 Apr 06 - 08:26 PM
Acme 17 Apr 06 - 08:21 PM
Rapparee 17 Apr 06 - 03:54 PM
Acme 17 Apr 06 - 03:23 PM
Rapparee 17 Apr 06 - 02:58 PM
Amos 17 Apr 06 - 02:36 PM
Rapparee 17 Apr 06 - 08:59 AM
Acme 17 Apr 06 - 01:18 AM
Bee-dubya-ell 17 Apr 06 - 01:05 AM
GUEST,William Shatner 16 Apr 06 - 11:52 PM
Bee-dubya-ell 16 Apr 06 - 11:44 PM
Rapparee 16 Apr 06 - 09:13 PM
Amos 16 Apr 06 - 07:54 PM
Amos 16 Apr 06 - 04:59 PM
Rapparee 16 Apr 06 - 04:45 PM
Bee-dubya-ell 16 Apr 06 - 04:26 PM
Rapparee 16 Apr 06 - 03:08 PM
Amos 16 Apr 06 - 01:04 PM
Acme 16 Apr 06 - 12:09 PM
Acme 16 Apr 06 - 02:07 AM
Acme 15 Apr 06 - 06:39 PM
Bunnahabhain 15 Apr 06 - 06:28 PM
Rapparee 15 Apr 06 - 04:08 PM
Acme 15 Apr 06 - 02:47 PM
Bee-dubya-ell 15 Apr 06 - 12:24 PM
Rapparee 15 Apr 06 - 12:00 PM
Bunnahabhain 15 Apr 06 - 11:50 AM
Lyrics & Knowledge Search [Advanced]
DT  Forum
Sort (Forum) by:relevance date
DT Lyrics:






Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 18 Apr 06 - 11:44 AM

You're lucky I could do it at all - we hit 100 yesterday, rather early in the season, and it seems TXU electric was a bit stretched so they conducted rolling blackouts in the region. I had to reset all of the clocks a couple of times.

It's supposed to hit 101 today. I have the wading pool set up in the back for the dogs (the pitbull knows the drill, she's in and out of it all day, but the catahoula is shy about the water still. I think she'll catch on, though).

Good stuff, Rap and Amos.


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 18 Apr 06 - 10:57 AM

Yea, we have walked through the Valley of Twelve,
For we are the meanest bastards in the Valley!


(to paraphrase an old Vietnam saying....)


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 18 Apr 06 - 09:36 AM

Well they busted up the dining room, to make that boiler burn,
They threw in passengers walking sticks, and Grandma's funeral urn,
They tore up every book on board, not just the ones wuz banned,
To make the boiler hotter still, and reach the ole Twelve Grand.

It was straining everybody's brain, and everybody's heart,
And the passengers cried out in fear, "Oh, why'd we ever start?"
They could not face the haunted looks, on the old an' tired hands,
Who staggered on into the night, all bound to make Twelve Grand.

They threw in everything they had! Ole poems from other folks!
Translations out of Babel Fish, and Donnie Osbourne jokes!
They threw in the Old Testament, and the Brotherhood of Man;
They swore they'd burn the train itself, if they could make Twelve Grand.

And when the morning sun came up, bright in the azure sky,
Where cows and chickens all lay flat,
From the wind of her passing by,
There's a smudge of smoke, out over the hill,
Yon toward the Promised Land.
And the MOAB crew take their rest at last,
For they got her past Twelve Grand.


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: MMario
Date: 18 Apr 06 - 08:56 AM

so good to see such classic posts.


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 18 Apr 06 - 08:54 AM

It should be advertised in Boston, New York, and Buffalo:
'Twas just one brave woman made twelve thousand postings go!

Chorus:

Singing post twelve kay in the morning,
Post twelve kay, heigh-ho!
Clear away Flamenco Ted,
And blow, girls, blow!

They tell you of these other threads a-runnin' in and out,
And say they'll make five hundred thou before they're six months
out.

But when you are below the line, the winds of change do blow;
And damned few threads will then survive 'cause the postings they get slow.

There's Stilly on the quarterdeck a-squintin' at the marks,
And Gluon up aloft above a-lookin' for some quarks.

Then lower down the boats, my girls, and after them we'll travel,
But if you get too near out tails, we'll kick you to the Devil.

When we get home, our voyage done, a hundred thousand posts made fast,
A brimming glass around we'll pass around, and toast our MOAB lass.


                         --Coughman and Heart, 1856


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 18 Apr 06 - 12:26 AM

Je vais au lit maintenant. Vous avez eu une brève histoire d'une partie de repertoir tôt de chanson de marins de la mer de mon père. Le nombre raccommodé est derrière nous et la maman peut cesser de ronger ce Rapaire ou les AMOS va faire quelque chose de idiot comme le battement vers le haut du flamenco Ted derrière la dépendance.


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 18 Apr 06 - 12:23 AM

MOM!


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 18 Apr 06 - 12:23 AM

The Mermaid

(I do believe this version has been "cleaned up.")

One Friday morn when we set sail
And our ship not far from land,
We there did espy a fair pretty maid,
With a comb and a glass in her hand, her hand, her hand,
With a comb and a glass in her hand.

Chorus:
While the raging seas did roar,
And the stormy winds did blow,
And we jolly sailor boys were up, up aloft,
And the land lubbers lying down below, below, below.

Then up spoke the captian of our gallant ship,
Who at once did our peril see,
I have married a wife in fair London town,
And this night she a widow will be, will be, will be,
And this night she a widow will be.'

And then up spoke the little cabin boy,
And a fair hair'd boy was he;
'I've a father and mother in fair Portsmouth town,
And this night they will weep for me, for me, for me,
And this night they will weep for me.'

Then three times round went our gallant ship.
And three times round went she;
For the want of a lifeboat the both went down,
As she sunk to the bottom of the sea, the sea, the sea,
As she sunk to the bottom of the sea.


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 18 Apr 06 - 12:20 AM

One of the first songs I learned to sing (gotta do something to put this number over. . .)

My father was the keeper of the Eddystone light
And he slept with a mermaid one fine night
Out of this union there came three
A porpoise and a porgy and the other was me!
Yo ho ho, the wind blows free,
Oh for the life on the rolling sea!

One night, as I was a-trimming the glim
Singing a verse from the evening hymn
I head a voice cry out an "Ahoy!"
And there was my mother, sitting on a buoy.
Yo ho ho, the wind blows free,
Oh for the life on the rolling sea!

"Oh, what has become of my children three?"
My mother then inquired of me.
One's on exhibit as a talking fish
The other was served in a chafing dish.
Yo ho ho, the wind blows free,
Oh for the life on the rolling sea!

Then the phosphorus flashed in her seaweed hair.
I looked again, and my mother wasn't there
But her voice came angrily out of the night
"To Hell with the keeper of the Eddystone Light!"
Yo ho ho, the wind blows free,
Oh for the life on the rolling sea!


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 18 Apr 06 - 12:18 AM

Here's Coleridge, with his special Mudcat poem, calling all ladies with dulcimers!



In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree :
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man

Down to a sunless sea.

So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round :
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree ;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
But oh ! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover !
A savage place ! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover !
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced :
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail :
And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean :
And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war !


The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves ;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.

It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice !
A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw :
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight 'twould win me,

That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome!
those caves of ice !
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware ! Beware !
His flashing eyes, his floating hair !
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 18 Apr 06 - 12:15 AM

I hope Rap and Amos are up and paying attention. It's time for us mid-westerners to quit playing on the computer and head to bed.


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 18 Apr 06 - 12:14 AM

Here's a "Marvelous" poem:


HAD we but world enough, and time,   
This coyness, Lady, were no crime   
We would sit down and think which way   
To walk and pass our long love's day.   
Thou by the Indian Ganges' side         
Shouldst rubies find: I by the tide   
Of Humber would complain. I would   
Love you ten years before the Flood,   
And you should, if you please, refuse   
Till the conversion of the Jews.   
My vegetable love should grow   
Vaster than empires, and more slow;   
An hundred years should go to praise   
Thine eyes and on thy forehead gaze;   
Two hundred to adore each breast,   
But thirty thousand to the rest;   
An age at least to every part,   
And the last age should show your heart.   
For, Lady, you deserve this state,   
Nor would I love at lower rate.   
But at my back I always hear   
Time's wingèd chariot hurrying near;   
And yonder all before us lie   
Deserts of vast eternity.   
Thy beauty shall no more be found,   
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound   
My echoing song: then worms shall try   
That long preserved virginity,   
And your quaint honour turn to dust,   
And into ashes all my lust:   
The grave 's a fine and private place,   
But none, I think, do there embrace.   
Now therefore, while the youthful hue   
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,   
And while thy willing soul transpires   
At every pore with instant fires,   
Now let us sport us while we may,   
And now, like amorous birds of prey,   
Rather at once our time devour   
Than languish in his slow-chapt power.
Let us roll all our strength and all   
Our sweetness up into one ball,   
And tear our pleasures with rough strife   
Thorough the iron gates of life:   
Thus, though we cannot make our sun   
Stand still, yet we will make him run.


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 18 Apr 06 - 12:11 AM

THAT'S what you get for poaching Mom's poetry!

(It's better if grilled!)


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 18 Apr 06 - 12:10 AM

Fishing expedition brought a big one right out of the water. Throw it back now, guys. Back to the bottom you go. . .


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 17 Apr 06 - 10:45 PM

I think that you might do well to do a line-by-line analysis. I have been know to fib a little bit....


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: beardedbruce
Date: 17 Apr 06 - 10:04 PM

Then there is no need to copy it to "Poetry about Mudcat..."


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 17 Apr 06 - 10:03 PM

Remember what Housman wrote -- and why:

'Terence, this is stupid stuff:        
You eat your victuals fast enough;        
There can't be much amiss, 'tis clear,        
To see the rate you drink your beer.        
But oh, good Lord, the verse you make,              
It gives a chap the belly-ache.        
The cow, the old cow, she is dead;        
It sleeps well, the horned head:        
We poor lads, 'tis our turn now        
To hear such tunes as killed the cow.              
Pretty friendship 'tis to rhyme        
Your friends to death before their time        
Moping melancholy mad:        
Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad.'        

Why, if 'tis dancing you would be,              
There's brisker pipes than poetry.        
Say, for what were hop-yards meant,        
Or why was Burton built on Trent?        
Oh many a peer of England brews        
Livelier liquor than the Muse,              
And malt does more than Milton can        
To justify God's ways to man.        
Ale, man, ale's the stuff to drink        
For fellows whom it hurts to think:        
Look into the pewter pot              
To see the world as the world's not.        
And faith, 'tis pleasant till 'tis past:        
The mischief is that 'twill not last.        
Oh I have been to Ludlow fair        
And left my necktie God knows where,              
And carried half way home, or near,        
Pints and quarts of Ludlow beer:        
Then the world seemed none so bad,        
And I myself a sterling lad;        
And down in lovely muck I've lain,              
Happy till I woke again.        
Then I saw the morning sky:        
Heigho, the tale was all a lie;        
The world, it was the old world yet,        
I was I, my things were wet,              
And nothing now remained to do        
But begin the game anew.        

Therefore, since the world has still        
Much good, but much less good than ill,        
And while the sun and moon endure              
Luck's a chance, but trouble's sure,        
I'd face it as a wise man would,        
And train for ill and not for good.        
'Tis true, the stuff I bring for sale        
Is not so brisk a brew as ale:              
Out of a stem that scored the hand        
I wrung it in a weary land.        
But take it: if the smack is sour,        
The better for the embittered hour;        
It should do good to heart and head              
When your soul is in my soul's stead;        
And I will friend you, if I may,        
In the dark and cloudy day.        

There was a king reigned in the East:        
There, when kings will sit to feast,              
They get their fill before they think        
With poisoned meat and poisoned drink.        
He gathered all the springs to birth        
From the many-venomed earth;        
First a little, thence to more,              
He sampled all her killing store;        
And easy, smiling, seasoned sound,        
Sate the king when healths went round.        
They put arsenic in his meat        
And stared aghast to watch him eat;              
They poured strychnine in his cup        
And shook to see him drink it up:        
They shook, they stared as white's their shirt:        
Them it was their poison hurt.        
?I tell the tale that I heard told.              
Mithridates, he died old.








(Haha! Jokes on you! I copied it straight!)


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: beardedbruce
Date: 17 Apr 06 - 10:00 PM

Amos,

The comment I quoted seems to refer to the poetry that I have posted, from this site. YOU are one of those poets: I see no reason NOT to inflict you on others, who might not come here to MOAB because of the sheer volume of high quality BS presented.


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 17 Apr 06 - 09:56 PM

Besides, BB, just because someone says your poetry is bad is no reason not write it -- in fact it's more reason TO write it. And it seems to be growing and improving, so why let yourself be chivvied out of it?


A


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Bee-dubya-ell
Date: 17 Apr 06 - 09:49 PM

If you feel they're worthy, Bruce, you are, of course, free to post them. But bear in mind that there are only a handful of regular posters to this thread and we are the only ones who are able to fully appreciate the transcendent qualities of MOABic verse. NonMOABites are more likely to break out in hives.


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: beardedbruce
Date: 17 Apr 06 - 09:42 PM

"The mere fact of having published a book of second rate sonnets makes a man quite irresistible. He lives the poetry he cannot write. The others write the poetry that they dare not realise." ~Oscar Wilde


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: beardedbruce
Date: 17 Apr 06 - 09:37 PM

"I just can't make myself generate more bad poetry to inflict upon the world. Bearded Bruce is doing enough of that already. Yada yada yada."

So, I should NOT post these works that the artists here have written?


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Bee-dubya-ell
Date: 17 Apr 06 - 09:20 PM

Hi Mom,

I have a question. Why is it that when friends ask me if I saw something on television and I tell them I don't watch television they say, "Oh yeah, that's right," then, five minutes later they'll ask if I saw something else on television?

Do I go around asking people if they read something on the Mudcat Cafe'?


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 17 Apr 06 - 08:26 PM

Only nineteen more! Hear that boiler roar,
Flying past the 9-9-2
With a hiss of steam, and a whistle scream,
It's the MOAB coming through!!!!
Now Rapaire my brag, and Rapaire may steal,
But we'll let them trifles stand;
Cuz when yer making time,what yer needs is Rhyme,
Headin' out to the old Twelve Grand.

A


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 17 Apr 06 - 08:21 PM

I looked in, left, but have come back to say SOMETHING just to advance the cause, so to speak.

I just can't make myself generate more bad poetry to inflict upon the world. Bearded Bruce is doing enough of that already. Yada yada yada.

Looks like tomorrow sometime, unless there's a flurry of Monday night visits.


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 17 Apr 06 - 03:54 PM

Gather ye BS while ye may,        
Old MOAB is still a-flying:        
And this same truth that smiles to-day        
To-morrow may be lying.        

The glorious lamp of heaven, our Mom
The higher she 's a-getting,        
And not one of her kids is dumb,        
And never she'll be setting.        

That age was good which is the first,        
When youth and blood were warmer;        
But being spent, she had not cursed        
And mellow now, a charmer.         

Then be not coy, but waste your time,        
And while ye may, post MOAB,        
For having lost but once your prime,        
Ye may be forever slow, Ab.

            --Robert Hatrack: Pomes Old and Newish (Hartford: Blavatsky and Smith, 1878)


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 17 Apr 06 - 03:23 PM

[sigh]


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 17 Apr 06 - 02:58 PM

Well, Khandu handed us his orders in 'bout posting BS
Sayin', "Y'all post it here all the time.
And we'll make a thousand or maybe even higher
Iffen you post your BS in time."

Well, engineer Amos said to his handsome hunky fireman
"Shovel on a little more coal,
And when we cross that five kay posting, well,
You can watch Old MOAB roll."

It's a mighty hard road from five to twelve thousand
A road with a seven kay grade.
It was on that grade that he blew out his keyboard,
You can see what a jump she made.

He was goin' down the grade making 100 posts each week
When his whistle broke into a scream,
He was found in the wreck with his hand on the throttle,
He was scalded to death by the steam.

Now a telegram came into Mom's mortgaged farmhouse
And this is what it said:
That brave engineer that was drivin' ol' MOAB
Is layin' in the 'leven thousands, dead.

Now listen, all you ladies, you must all take a warning,
From this story a lesson learn:
Never speak harsh words to your true lovin' geek boy,
He may leave you and never return.

          --Songs of the MOAB, Toepicker, and Sandy Fay (Allen Himax, ed.; Washington, DC: Elsie Publications, 1903).


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 17 Apr 06 - 02:36 PM

We had rung 11977's bell,
We were hot out of that gate,
And that grimy engineer yelled, "Hell!"
"Make it 11-9-78!"
"I've still coal in the bunker, boys,
And them brakes won't touch my hand,
So if Spaw don't fart
An' we don't fall apart,
Why, we'll make it to the ole Twelve Grand."

Onward and upward, brave companions!

Damn the plagiarism, full speed ahead!


A


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 17 Apr 06 - 08:59 AM

When twelve thousand postings shall besiege thy brow
And dig deep trenches in they beauty's field,
Thy youth's proud livery, so gazed on now,
Will be yet an untattered weed, of great worth held.
Then being asked where all they beauty lies,
Where all the treasure of thy lusty days,
To say within thine own deep-sunken eyes
Were an all-eating shame and thriftless praise.
How much more praise deserved thy BS's use
If thou couldst answer, "These fair kids of mine
Shall sum my count and make my old excuse,"
Proving their BS by succession thine!
This were to be new-made when MOAB's old
And see thy blood warm, and tell them all, "Kiss off, you broke-dick mamaluca fuck-wits!"


         --William Staidspeare, Sonnet LXIX (London: At Ye Signe Of Ye Richard Heade, 1606 ff.).


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 17 Apr 06 - 01:18 AM

Just court martial the rat.

Oh, geez, now you guy have done it. Google at the bottom has two Shatner ads. His DVD club and a new CD.

Pardon me, I have to go barf. . .


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Bee-dubya-ell
Date: 17 Apr 06 - 01:05 AM

Mom! Beardedbruce has copied the pomes by Amos, Rapaire an' me an' posted 'em to the "Poetry About Mudcat" thread! An' when he does it he don't go back an fix the HTML tags so's Mom and MOAB are boldface! Is that legal? Can we git some sorta court-ordered conjunction or somethin'?


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: GUEST,William Shatner
Date: 16 Apr 06 - 11:52 PM

Bravo! Author! Author! Really, I am just tickled pink to see how well respected my name is on this...sight...sorry!...site is what I meant to say. It reminds me of the salad days back on Regulus 5. Ah, yes. She was tall, blonde, and single. She had that...look...in her eye. It told me...that she was in need of...entertainment. My kind of entertainment. What could I do? I have 5 days of leave and...no commitments. I had a free pass...to the planetarium and...a shuttle craft at my disposal. I did the obvious thing and asked her aboard for a look at my...star charts.


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Bee-dubya-ell
Date: 16 Apr 06 - 11:44 PM

It was on the train to the Big Twelve Grand
Where the children of MOAB took their stand.
They had to stand for they could not sit
'Cause the place was hip-deep in bullshit.

Now Amos Jesup was the engineer
Of that train a-headed for nowhere.
With his steely eye and his bulldog jaw
He looked a lot like your mother-in-law

And the fireman was named Kid Rapaire
A bookworm with a quiet stare
And the quickest "OVERDUE" stamp in the west
And a forty-four beneath his vest

On lookout was Stilly River Sage
A stalwart gal by any gauge
A crack shot with an old six-shooter
And hell on a laptop computer.

And among the passengers on that train
Was Mmario and Bunnahabhain,
And Rustic Rebel, a guy named Giok,
And khandu, Tweed, and Little Hawk.

And in the back, in the caboose,
Was Bee-dubya, sometimes known as Bruce.
The janitor upon that train
An idjit with just half a brain.

Now the train was hummin' down the track
Bullshit a-blowin' from its BS stack
When Stilly cried "What's that ahead?
It looks just like Flamingo Ted!

That thief of posts of even hundred!"
But then it was Rapaire's gun thundered
And Ted was gone, his ass was toast,
He'd never steal another post..

And Amos poured upon more coal
For up ahead he saw the goal
The twelve-thousandth holy MOAB post
But then he turned white as a ghost!

For on the tracks there stood a fellow
A tub of lard with eyes of yellow
A talentless blob wrapped in fat
And Amos cried, "It's Bill the Shat!

The scourge of all in MOABland,
('Cept Little Hawk, Shat's biggest fan.)"
And once again Rapaire's gun sounded
And off the tracks that Shatner bounded.

And the MOAB train it blew right by
It spit BS in Shatner's eye.
The passengers began to cheer
The Big Twelve Grand was getting near!

But would they reach that hallowed ground
Without some jackass coming 'round
And as a joke, a goof, a whim
Taking that holy post from them?

We'll know in just a few more posts
And then we can sit back and coast
'Til thirteen-thousand comes around
Or Max decides to shut us down.


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 16 Apr 06 - 09:13 PM

Way up high in the Mudcat peaks, where the yellow GUESTS grow tall
Old Ken Khandu started thread about BS one fall.
Then they talked about horses and freds and Ralphs and maybe a dog or two
And they swore they'd post 'most everything that came within their view.
And any 'Catters that flapped their jaws and didn't bathe each day
Got to post BS and carry on in a most artistic way.

Now one fine day old Bee-Dubya-Ell he throwed his wedged clay down
"Well I'm sick of the smell of these burnin' pots, and I allows I'm a goin' to town!"
So him and Amos saddles up and hits a lope, for they weren't much for a ride
And them was the days when could oil up their insides.
Oh they starts her off at The Tweezer's Place at the head of Whiskey Row
And they winds up down at the Christmas Tavern some forty drinks below.
And then they sets up and turns around and drinks her the other way
And to tell you folks the goddamned truth, them boys got stewed that day!

Now, as they was a-ridin' back to camp a packin' a pretty good load
Well who should they meet but Mom herself a-striding down the road!
Says she, "You ornery musical skunks, you better hunt your holes!
For I've found what you've done and I have come to blister you head to soles!"
Says Ol' Bee-Dub, "Well, I'll be damned! Us boys is kinda tight,
But MOM! We was just havin' some fun, and you said it was alright!"

Well, Amos started sniveling, and his tears fell straight and true,
But Mom hoisted him up by his left ear, and she pulled 'til it turned blue!
Now Bee-Dubya-Ell was a pottery man, and wedged his clay right neat,
And he didn't think, but grabbed some mud and groveled at Mom's bare feet!

Well, she kicked him one, and stretched him out, and then grabbed his right-hand ear,
And she frog-marched them a mile or two, then kicked 'em in the rear!
"No kids of are gonna consort with GUESTS, and...Oh, my land!
You keep this up and Flamenco Ted will grab that big twelve grand!"

And both them boys (they was sober now) they pled and cajoled and prayed
And finally Mom relented, providin' they blocked a Teddy raid.
So both them boys are sittin' there, necked to their keyboards tight
And they don't neither drink nor eat, protectin' a MOABite's right!


--Amos Jessup-Pinktoes, Poems of the MOAB Country (Tombstone: Press of the Fighting Pimps, 1889).


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 16 Apr 06 - 07:54 PM

We were thirty posts from the big Twelve Grand,
Hard along the MOAB Trail;
We were seasoned hands of the MOAB kind,
And none of us was frail
So when Mom said, "Boys,
It's time to move,
Make 'em up and move along!"
We were ready with the BS brand
And we started up right strong.

Now one er two had had the flu
An' wasn't feeling spry.
But every hand in MOAB land
Said they'd damn well give a try.
So they heated up their tired brains,
And they stretched another strand
'Cuz the Boss, Ole Maw, had laid out the law
We was bound to make twelve grand.

Ole BWL, well, it's hard to tell,
How he come to meet his fate
He was typin' hot, but he hits some pots,
And ev'ything had ter wait.
But the rest of, hell, we understood,
What pot can do to a man;
So we tightened our belts, and oiled our pelts,
Heading on toward the big Twelve Grand.

Now, big Rapaire, he was feelin' rare,
And was riding in top form.
He could write great stuff full of fancy fluff,
Far above the av'rage norm.
But the Idaho Legion sent out a call,
Said they needed every hand,
So he called in sick (though Mom knew his tricks)
Left one less fer the ole Twelve Grand.

There's a few of still, and we onward spill,
Letting BS bravely fly,
And we'll raise our toasts, and make our posts,
An' we'll reach Twelve Grand er die!
And we ain't too neat but we'll keep our feet
And will bravely make a stand
Heading into time, till we cross the line
And the MOAB makes Twelve Grand!

Pershing Montgolfier
Chansons and Work Songs from the Northwest"
1908, Messier and Messier, Paris


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 16 Apr 06 - 04:59 PM

Who knows -- it might kill more ants than your present method!!!


A


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 16 Apr 06 - 04:45 PM

Try the damned recipe, ya broke-dick mamalucca!


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Bee-dubya-ell
Date: 16 Apr 06 - 04:26 PM

Instant grits are an abomination! Regular grits aren't anything to write home about, but instant grits are only good for one thing. Spread dry instant grits on ant beds and when the ants eat them they'll swell up in the ants' digestive tracts, killing the little buggers.

Unfortunately, no similar beneficial use has been found for haggis.


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 16 Apr 06 - 03:08 PM

We hire ours out, too. Might have saved the ol' marriage. Besides, it costs about US $ 350, but we get about (literally) ten times that back. I consider it a good investment.

It is Easter. I made grits souffle, smoked sausage, and fresh strawberries for breakfast.

Grits Souffle
(Quantities and temperatures are US, so adjust accordingly)

2 cups milk
1/2 cup instant grits
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
2 Tablespoons melted butter
1/2 teaspoon sugar
3 eggs, seperated

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F. Grease a 1 1/2 quart casserole or souffle dish (I use butter).

Scald the milk; add grits and cook until thick, stirring constantly. Add salt, baking powder, butter and sugar; mix well. Beat egg yolks and add to grits.

Whip egg whites until they hold soft peaks and fold into grits mixture. Pour into prepared dish.

Bake at 375 degrees F. for 30 minutes and serve hot. Will serve 6, but more likely 4, or if you really like it as we do, 2.

HINT: Before adding egg white, mix in 1/2 cup grated sharp cheddar cheese and a dash of tabasco sauce. (I realized this morning that some finely dices mild green chiles would work well with the cheese and tabasco sauce. I also used Tiger Sauce this morning because I didn't have any tabasco and it worked very well.)


This recipe came from Christina Campbell's Tavern in Colonial Williamsburg, so don't go sniffin' in the air and think that it takes like watery grits. It doesn't. In fact, I'm make it more often if I had the time. Make it, serve it, and don't tell 'em what it is until after they say "YUM YUM YUMMY!"


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 16 Apr 06 - 01:04 PM

I believe the deadline is Monday. We hired ours out. The stress saved was worth it.

A


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 16 Apr 06 - 12:09 PM

Mom, looks like we're here all by ourselves. The guys must be out hiding eggs for neighborhood children. My kiddos are big enough they don't need eggs hidden (and we ate a good number of those wonderful Cadbury eggs during the last couple of weeks).

Still working on my taxes, Schedule A. Didn't have enough stolen that was not reimbursed by the insurance company to equal 10 percent of my adjusted salary, so I've stopped on that form and am working on the one to do with "Taxes You Paid" on Schedule A, lines 5 - 8. I shouldn't be playing on the computer at all except I had to come look up page five of the instructions for Schedule A. . .


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 16 Apr 06 - 02:07 AM

Sorry to have been away so long, MOM. I'm a late one this year, spending the day doing my taxes. Every step seems to involve research and finding a folder with a form, and then finding the corresponding IRS publication with one paragraph that pertains to my number. I'm on Schedule A right now and realize one company didn't send me the form they should have so I have to fill things out a little differently and report the points on refinancing the house myself. The really slow part was the state sales tax, but by going through my receipts and totalling them I'll get a lot more back, since the allowance is about 1/3 of the actual amount I spent this year (the burglary and replacement equipment was part of it).

But everyone else probably had their taxes in a long time ago so isn't interested in this saga so I'll stop now. (Now that I've finished printing up form 4684 and instructions for casualties and thefts. . . I shoulda started this earlier, but I've had so many things to do this spring and I was sick with the crud for a whole month. . . I haven't even had time to put in a GARDEN, Mom! Whaaa!)

Time for bed. . .


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 15 Apr 06 - 06:39 PM

Do rock operas count?


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Bunnahabhain
Date: 15 Apr 06 - 06:28 PM

BWL, you owe me a new keyboard for that jigsaw comment.

I was actually thinking of SRS's hair words. Many more of those, and songs would be invoked, and MOAB would end up upstairs, and you know she can't handle the altitude, thin air and seriousness up there...


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 15 Apr 06 - 04:08 PM

Yeah, and I've got a saber saw but they won't let me use it at fencing practice.


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 15 Apr 06 - 02:47 PM

You've busted it, so the jig's up!


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Bee-dubya-ell
Date: 15 Apr 06 - 12:24 PM

Among my collection of power tools I have a circular saw. I don't know why they call it that because it's only good for sawing in straight lines. Try to use it to cut a circle and you'll probably cut your finger off instead.

I also have a jig saw with which I'm extremely dissapointed. When you turn it on it only goes "Whirrrrrrr...." I expected it to go, "WHIR, whir, whir, WHIR, whir, whir."


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 15 Apr 06 - 12:00 PM

Words like "praying"??


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Bunnahabhain
Date: 15 Apr 06 - 11:50 AM

any more words like that, and a greenwoodside or such like will suddenly appear, and someone will find themselves pregnant or press-ganged into playing a minor role opposite William Shatner....


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate
Next Page

 


You must be a member to post in non-music threads. Join here.


You must be a member to post in non-music threads. Join here.



Mudcat time: 17 October 2:14 AM EDT

[ Home ]

All original material is copyright © 1998 by the Mudcat Café Music Foundation, Inc. All photos, music, images, etc. are copyright © by their rightful owners. Every effort is taken to attribute appropriate copyright to images, content, music, etc. We are not a copyright resource.