I sit upon my shore.
Ignoring the fact,
That I've made a pact.
That I would leave no instrument on it's shelf.
I think to myself.
Of that one sound so ripe.
Gosh, I want myself a bagpipes.
*Aren't bagpipes weird?*
No, owning a bagpipes wouldn't be weird.
*Yes it would.*
Oh? That's your opinion.
*They're pretty lame.*
Seriously. Bagpipes are cool.
Don't even try to argue. Give in to the pipes.
No. Be silent. Let the bagpipes envelop you.
*Where are you even from? Is this normal there?*
The land of bagpipes. Where I am home.
*So you're from Scotland?*
No. I need a bagpipes. So I will be home.
**Curtains behind unleash 10,000 bagpipes.**
*OH GOD. Why do you have so many bagpipes!?*
They are my brethren.
*They're just sitting there bro.*
*I am home.*
I don't even know why I wrote that. but it occupied me. Good day.
so here we are beneath the pallid ray
of summer noontime seeking to escape
for just one moment from the normal shape
of discreet instance so that we might play
a different sort of role where one could say
the angry words to those with mouth agape
that tell apart the angel from the ape
but those are for another cooler day
instead we look to work a better will
in places where the choice is not so bright
as underneath the growing midday roar
of silver needles passing by the hill
each flashing clearly in the brilliant light
so bidding us to join with them and soar
When I hear those Bagpipes roar,
My heart begins to soar.
Frozen in my tracks,
My mind wanders back.
To a piper I once knew
Whose heart was pure and true.
He played those pipes like angels sing,
I often wondered, "Where are his wings?"
Those bagpipes casted a spell on me,
And that Irish lad's face is all I could see.
I used to weep when those pipes would sound,
Because for the moment my lost heart felt found.
See, that piper is the strongest man I ever met,
But because my heart was immature, I was'nt ready for him yet.
As years pass by, this broken heart has begun to heal.
Yet as soon as I hear those faithful pipes, my heart starts to feel.
Time has a way of putting our mistakes far in the past,
But I have to accept that Celtic sound will forever last.
So when you see that kilt and bearskin come marching in the room,
Do as I do 'listen' and soon your heart will bloom.
For those bagpipes serve a bigger role then i ever knew, That thunderous sound can only come from a select few.
And behind one of those pipes, stands a beautiful man, but he never notices I'm his biggest fan.
His garb was not spectacular,his shoes were grey and worn;
his hair was longer than a mere crewcut.
His nails were very dirty,
his veins were free of needles-
and his face shone bright red
in the misty sunlight.
He greeted the sky with a wail of delight,
and the hearts of passers began to throb.
Summer and autumn were remarried in an embrace of generous hope,
throbbing airwaves,tapping feet,delighted smiles.
And then along came a citizen,politically correct;
oh so relevant,barely tolerant ,emancipator.
With a fuzz of of dirty gray
a salloween expressive nosegay-
A mission to expunge the infiltrator!
He was busy with his flute;
he could not practise,he said
"I only live two hundred yards away.
You must cease and leave this place
you do not fit here in this race-
ABANDON this ridiculous idea!"
So,the stopwatch was set;
the 'half hour rule' began to reign:
And the police turned up
after merely twenty minutes!
Nelson's watch saved the day
"take another twenty"They did say
and our liberator slunk away
Though earth on heel and
sky on neck:Lovers'
on a bridge
Early morning message
Like when teachers give textbook assignments
Knowing the solutions are in the back
Doesn’t matter how you learn
Show up on time with the answers
What a rocking knock
A clock to the jaw
One just did
Listen, you can hear it
are you even capable of love?
you're unquenchably disgusting, horrible.
when i see you, i want to kiss you
and punch you in the face.
(all in the same breath.)
you could never love me as i love you.
i am numb, numb to all you say.
i 'love' you, but you...
you are the most pathetic worm i have ever seen.
crawling for attention, vying for every girl's affection.
you're (i'm) an idiot
for ever dreaming of you and i.
have i gotten too good at pretending?
(there's no such thing as being too good.)
spit me out as though i was an afterthought.
you chewed up my heart and i
expect nothing in return.
(not even your love.)
There was a Scots soldier, Bill Millin
The sound of his bagpipes was thrillin'
The Germans thought how sad-
The poor man's quite mad-
We'll not waste a bullet on him then
The tradition of going to war playing moral-boosting bagpipes was forbidden in the British army during the 1914-18 war as it tended to attract enemy fire. On June 6th 1944 however, Bill Millin was ordered to play the pipes on Sword beach as the D-day landings were in full swing.
He escaped injury because the German gunners, deciding he was completely bonkers, did not fire on him. He died aged 88 a couple of years ago.