Subject: Lyr Add: JACKSON AND JANE (Mark Graham)
From:
artbrooks
Date: 19 Mar 07 - 02:42 PM
OK, here it is...written by Mark Graham and transcribed from Keep this Coupon from the wonderful Tucson, AZ group Round the House.
JACKSON AND JANE
My name is Dan Jackson. I follow the plow.
I've a five-acre farm with a pig and a cow.
I'm a devil for work when the sun's burning bright,
And a happy wee man by my fire at night.
I can butter me spuds, and there's milk for my tea.
A rasher and eggs are no stranger to me.
Just show me a roast of your beef or your pork
And I'll show you the Rembrandt of knife and of fork.
One night by the hearth, I was reading the Times
About politics and other horrible crimes.
I spied a bold headline that gave me a start:
Said eggs, meat and butter will tear down your heart.
It will clog up you plumbing and puff up your bag
And turn fine lad and lass into has-been and hag,
Blow up your blood pressure clear up to the sky.
Thank Joseph and Mary there's porter, says I.
Then a tear filled me eye. Fear filled my mind,
For the fate of my friends of the four-footed kind,
For a pig is just rashers and pork to the ground,
And a cow's made of butter and beef by the pound.
By Jesus, says I, they'll be poisoned for sure,
For the article mentioned no physic or cure.
My sorrow was great; there was naught I could do.
Then salvation appeared on page seventy-two.
My hope was renewed as I read in a glance
Of the wonders achieved through aerobical dance.
Aerobics, they said will return you to trim
Through the fierce locomotion of torso and limb.
The fat will leap off you like fleas off a cur
And your blood will run clean as a drop of the pure.
Your heart will be filled with such vigor and might.
Fair play to your lungs, your liver and lights.
Come sign up today. Come work out at the club.
It's past the Post Office, right next to the pub.
So early the next morning, before the cock crowed,
Was Bossy, meself and the sow down the road.
We passed the Post Office, walked in through the door,
And there saw a sight that we'd ne'er seen before.
They were leaping about as if under a spell,
And the music rang out like the hammers of Hell.
And in the tightest of tights, in the brightest of hues,
St. Vitas in charge of the whole bloody crew.
We purchased admission. We stood in the back,
And soon with the rest we were ballin' the jack.
And the fat that we burned as we tortured our flesh
Would have ended starvation in Bangladesh.
We labored the winter, spring, summer and fall,
Aerobics and jogging, and Nautilus and all.
Bacteria and virus away from us sped.,
For we ate every vitamin from alpha to zed.
The sow's now a marvel, so lean and so trim,
And full to the brim with vigor and vim.
She's a match for Jane Fonda, so slim and so sleek,
And I hear Donald Trump proposed marriage last week,
And Bossy'd become such a dainty cow-lean.
She gives naught but skim milk and the best margarine.
Her fame had been spreading from village to town.
She's the first of her race to say, "Down, dairy, down."
And, as for meself, it's quite easy to see:
There's no man on the planet can stand up to me.
At aerobics and jogging, I have no peer.
There's only one thing in the world that I fear.
For your man Schwarzenegger, he's no match for me.
Your monkey King Kong can climb up a tree.
And the sum of these two to the power of ten.
But don't let me see Bossy in Spandex again.
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sj
