Tuesday, March 10, 2009

What music haunts my fitful sleep?

What music haunts my fitful sleep?
The song of sirens?
Oh, their floating hair
Adorning bare breasts
I’ll come to thee
Despite thy dooming song

What music haunts my fitful sleep?
Melodious mermaids?
Basking on Neptune’s playground
Teach me to respire
Within your ocean’s depths
And I am yours

What music haunts my fitful sleep?
Artemis, is it your virgin song?
Shall I gaze upon your nakedness
As you bathe in that icy stream,
And have you turn me to a stag
That the dogs of war rip asunder?

For when I wake
Not rested, but rather rent by fear
I shall once again go forth
Upon those fiery fields
And hear the singing of those shells
The music that haunts my fitful sleep

Monday, March 9, 2009

Peanut Butter

I shudder
at the thought of peanut butter
Brown, gooey, sticky stuff
that makes you choke and sputter
You can eat and eat, but never get enough

Spread it on some bread
or just eat it off the knife
Go on, go ahead
why not risk your life?

Oh, oh, shudder, shudder
All that lovely peanut butter

But have you read the news?
The stuff’s got salmonella
It’s given me the blues
That stuff could kill a fella!

But here I am still thinking
about a midnight snack
My willpower quickly sinking
I shudder on the rack

Shudder, shudder
Peanut butter
Mutter, mutter
Peanut butter

Yes, eating it could kill me
or make me very sick
but there is no guarantee
so spread it on real thick

Hmm, peanut butter
I cannot, will not give it up
Though it makes my heart valves flutter
I’ll eat it by the cup

I love it
love it
love it

Who would not die for love?

Sunday, March 1, 2009

Wacker's Lament

I dressed me best
Stopped by the ali
And had ‘em bob me air
Looked right smart, I did
Fit, I’d say
Walkin dead slow
So the judies could see me self
Yeah, I was pure brazen brilliant

Truth is, I was lookin fer er
A judy I met moren a few year ago
When I was on me bill
Cackhanded in Austria
Among them kraut wackers
She were class all round, she were
And when she smiled at me
I went gozzie like a dozey get

She’s ere somewheres
Aving a laughin good time
No doubt about that
It’s doing in me swede
Looking fer the sly lass
Losin herself inbetwixt
All these other scousers
Or is she in the penguin house?

Well, I ain’t long fer this mad quest
Me knackers are near froze
I don’t have the price of a latchlifter
An me in the second Port of the Empire
All a billy, divvy that I am
Like them Rovers
Performing on a poor pitch
I’ll pull up me kecks an head home

In a bit