Those Vegans in space
they are so gravity free,
no animals there
to suffer cruelty.
Vegans in space
just floating around
considering their options
for reaching the ground.
(Aka ‘I still hear your voice’)
I still hear your voice
on the radio,
though you died, in reality,
a long time ago,
a-ah-hah!
a-ah-hah.
This is a Mexican song, allegedly about two brothers, both firemen in La Fiuerro del Servicio de Mechico Nationale (the Mexican National Fire Service); twins they were, and no one could tell them apart – sometimes they even confused themselves as to whom was whom.
One brother, we shall call him José, was the oldest by a matter of minutes, the other… Joseby was the younger by a similar amount of minutes.
I give you ‘Chihuahua!’
In Cornwall…
At half-past-two
the sky is blue
there’s not a cloud to see;
by half-past three
it rains on me,
and it also rains on you.
Which is the sort
of thing we get…
in Cornwall.
We go for a drive
down narrow lanes,
in our shiny motor car,
but the lane is only
just
wider than we are;
and then we have to factor
in the meeting of a tractor,
and reversing is all we seem to do,
Which is just the sort
of thing we get…
in Cornwall.
But, we love living here…
in Cornwall.
In Cornwall
we spend our nights and days,
for Cornwall
has its own special ways,
forever want to stay…
in Cornwall.
Imagine if you lived
in a first-floor flat,
a first-floor flat,
a first-floor flat,
imagine if you lived
in a first-floor flat
and you couldn’t use the lift.
Imagine if you lived
in a fourth-floor flat,
a fourth-floor flat,
a fourth-floor flat,
imagine if you lived
in a fourth-floor flat
and you couldn’t use the lift.
Imagine if you lived
in a fifth-floor flat,
a fifth-floor flat,
a fifth-floor flat,
imagine if you lived
in a fifth-floor flat
and you couldn’t use the lift.
Imagine if you lived
in a fifty-fifth-floor flat,
a fifty-fifth-floor flat,
a fifty-fifth-floor flat,
imagine if you lived
in a fifty-fifth-floor flat
and you couldn’t use the lift.
Imagine if you lived
in times like these –
ah…no need to imagine
because we do.
I’ll be yours…
fervour;
on these shores…
fervour;
on all fours…
fervour,
and a day.
This is about a song called: The Pink Punk Geese Honk.
Fantastic title, but the lyrics are only the title chanted at opportune moments throughout the song; so, largely an instrumental song, akin to ‘Mouldy Old Dough’ by Lieutenant Pigeon back in the 70s.
In a punk style (unsurprisingly) you can play this song in a fast-paced tempo, utilising a ‘honk!’ or two – if you like.
It’s a lovely day
It’s a lovely day
for someone
but not me;
it’s raining on my head
and blowing a hooley;
I’m sure that I can see
that it’s a lovely day
for someone
but not me.
It’s a lovely day
somewhere
but not here;
It’s hailstorms, rain, and thunder
causing fear;
and I’m hearing in my ear,
that it’s a lovely day
somewhere
but not here.
Lyrics by Robert Stephen Hawker (1804–1875)
A good sword and a trusty hand,
A merry heart and true!
King James’s men shall understand
What Cornish lads can do.
And have they fixed the where and when?
And shall Trelawny die?
Here’s twenty thousand Cornish men
Will know the reason why!
And shall Trelawney live?
Or shall Trelawney die?
Here’s twenty thousand Cornish men
Will know the reason why!
Out spake their Captain brave and bold:
A merry wight was he:
“If London Tower were Michael’s hold,
We’ll set Trelawney free!
We’ll cross the Tamar, land to land,
The Severn is no stay:
With ‘one and all’, and hand in hand,
And who shall bid us nay?”
And shall Trelawney live?
Or shall Trelawney die?
Here’s twenty thousand Cornish men
Will know the reason why!
“And when we come to London Wall,
A pleasent sight to view,
Come forth! come forth ye cowards all,
Here’s men as good as you!
Trelawney he’s in keep and hold:
Trelawney he may die:
But twenty thousand Cornish bold
Will know the reason why!”
And shall Trelawney live?
Or shall Trelawney die?
Here’s twenty thousand Cornish men
Will know the reason why!
Sometimes, I write songs,
though they never right the wrongs;
it’s just a rite of passage
I have to go through.
 | Words from a Lentil… on I don’t wanna be a poet no… |
 | Sarvagya on I don’t wanna be a poet no… |
| Words from a Lentil… on I wanna be a poet |
 | fictionspawn Aak on I wanna be a poet |
 | Stine Writing on A Haiku a Day |
