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Everybody's learning how to wash their hands now,
C'mon baby do the Covid Motion
It's about as easy as a certain dance now
C'mon baby, do the Covid Motion
My little baby sister can do it with ease
It's easier than learning your A B C's
So c'mon,  c'mon, do the Covid Motion with me

(chorus)

You scrub your finger tips, c'mon baby
Now front, now back
Well now I think you got the knack...whoa whoa

Remember when you do it, leave some space now
C'mon baby do the Covid Motion
And you must make certain you don't touch your face now
C'mon baby do the Covid Motion
Wash for twenty seconds babe, that's all you'll need
Some soap, and water and I know you'll succeed
So come on, come on, do the Covid Motion with me


(Interlude)

Yeah yeah yeah, do the Covid Motion
C'mon baby do the Covid Motion
When you wash your hands, it's the Covid Motion
Standing still and dancing like the locomotion
It's the way to do it, just listen to me
Do the Covid Motion now 1-2-3
So c'mon , c'mon and do the Covid Motion with me

chorus

C'mon baby do the Covid Motion
C'mon baby do the Covid Motion
C'mon baby do the Covid Motion
C'mon baby do the Locomotion

fade out
sung to The Locomotion by Carole King
Jenifer S May 2020
Every piece is placed with precision
The same way it's been placed before
Remember the moves, repeat the rules
Eyes on the target,  ready,  set, go

You stand alone in the company of many
You stand silent while they struggle to spill their story
I seek your attention, request you to join the game
You oblige  and wander into my territory

I make my move and you accept
As always, for  information, I pry
For you are different,  just as expected
A new story,  a new answer that you reply

"Interesting" "intriguing" "fascinating"
you recite the words I have memorised
With every gesture, you  fuel my curiosity
yet I never fail to play the moves I've revised

Check;  break down the barrier to your mind
Check; earn and conquer your trust
Check; uncover the story caged in your head
Checkmate, the next move, a must

And though I've stuck to my rules
You've broken the invisible fence
You surround me just as I have done to you
You widen your grin as I try to make sense

On this field of black and white, little did I know
The pieces had merged into an ugly grey
For you had been playing by the same rules
Imitating the moves that I play

Neck to neck, you and I
As a generous gesture
You allow me to make the final move
Expecting me to conquer

All eyes me, as I reach out
I won't dare let my heart lead the way
It knows only of how to be played
Not how to play

No matter whether I win or lose,
The game, I know won't last forever
You will leave me, no matter of the outcome
So why even bother?

Yet I play not to win
Nor to lose
I play for the thrill
And the unexpected I'll choose

Your king stands alone
surrounded, helpless, vulnerable
You may think me a fool or a genius
But I plan to make this game memorable

I make my final decision
And move my queen towards her fate
Towards your king, but not quite
End of game, a stalemate
Geary evans May 2020
How long must I perstist
How long must I wait
How long until I have to wait
Those lips those eyes those hands
Are you sent from heaven or just a fallen angel
Years I wait for you and yet I am still not worthy to be your
King
I. Wait for you
Carrillo Apr 2020
Chisel the surface with plain grains, valleys, and burnt sienna eyes
Kindle the waking day as it rests on the
hammocks of your canopy  
Aureate Renaissance bequest divine goodbyes, farewell fortunate tales and my whimsical cries  

Christen the Seven Seas with the speckled embers that are bemoaned unto thee
Vitiating virtuous vitality within your incomplete home
Forty winks of spring tread beneath your firm, cold brow— blossoming bluebonnets reveal mosaic plateaus  

Divulge the yen under lock and key
Imbue your sentiments with charcoaled pique
Alas, anchor the revelations— caress the crystal vector that enlightens individual aspirations
Dethrone the wrinkled creator, for thou created the wicked chamber, blossoming bluebonnets betoken the savior

Hidalgo, thee shall attaineth the season’s gl’ries, and thou art the judge of your own amorous, beatific stories
Go away of all flesh and poisoned rip-roaring, secure another meridian and whittle euphoria

Chisel the surface with plain grains, valleys, and burnt sienna eyes
Kindle the waking day as it rests on the hammocks of your canopy  
Aureate Renaissance bequest divine goodbyes, farewell fortunate tales and my whimsical cries
Horrorgirl Apr 2020
Everyone floats down
In to the sewer
Where I await them so
I can eat them
This life
Of an evil


(Refrain)


Every body floats down
Everybody floats down

Everyone watch out for the
Red balloon
As evil will lurk
So watch out for the beast

(Refrain)

Every body floats down
Every body floats down
Based on Stephen king s pennywise the clown
Michelle Apr 2020
Fact is stranger than fiction.
Quentin sits for days trying to think of a plot,
As dazed and twisted as his.
And should the Tiger King take Quentin under his wing,
I am sure that Quentin's mouth will be searching for teeth.
(but then again, don't you think Quentin is a tad bit
old?)
Benevolent monarch, with peasants made of fur.
Boldy he strays upon a kingdom never his.
And the peasants,
They have no choice
Have no voice,
Nothing but the strength to look the Tiger King's
Advisor in the eye
as they say
"Goodbye".
And good old Carole Baskin watches.
From a pedestal of brie and champagne:
Money money money! Shower it.
Just not on the tigers.
No money for the peasants.
No money for the ******.
Carlo C Gomez Mar 2020
Egyptian contractors are hard to trust
they're into pyramid schemes

King Tut was a whiny baby
who had mummy issues

Cleopatra turned out to be
a lazy queen who sat on her asp
More humor at Shamamama's request!
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
Truces
by Michael R. Burch

Artur took Cabal, his hound,
and Carwennan, his knife,
and his sword forged by Wayland
and Merlyn, his falcon,
and, saying goodbye to his sons and his wife,
he strode to the Table Rounde.

“Here is my spear, Rhongomyniad,
and here is Wygar that I wear,
and ready for war,
an oath I foreswore
to fight for all that is righteous and fair
from Wales to the towers of Gilead!”

But none could be found to contest him,
for Lancelot had slewn them, forsooth,
so he hastened back home, for to rest him,
till his wife bade him, “Thatch up the roof!”

We must sometimes wonder if all the fighting related to King Arthur and his knights was really necessary. In particular, it seems that Lancelot fought and either captured or killed a fairly large percentage of the population of England. Could it be that Arthur preferred to fight than stay at home and do domestic chores? And, honestly now, if he and his knights were such incredible warriors, who would have been silly enough to do battle with them? Wygar was the name of Arthur’s hauberk, or armored tunic, which was supposedly fashioned by one Witege or Widia, possibly the son of Wayland Smith. Legends suggest that Excalibur was forged upon the anvil of the smith-god Wayland, who was also known as Volund, which sounds suspiciously like Vulcan. Keywords/Tags: King Arthur, armor, sword, Excalibur, spear, Lancelot, wife, domestic chores, war, peace, homework
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
Pellinore’s Fancy
by Michael R. Burch

King Pellinore was famous for hunting the Questing Beast, a rather odd, fantastical creature. Does its name suggest that the beast was dreamed up, or invented for the purpose of questing after it? Perhaps Pellinore simply didn’t want to stay home and needed a good (if farfetched) excuse to furnish his wife . . .

What do you do when your wife is a nag
and has sworn you to hunt neither fish, fowl, nor stag?
When the land is at peace, but at home you have none,
Is that, perchance, when ... the Questing Beasts run?

Keywords/Tags: King Pellinore, questing beast, hunt, Arthurian, legend, myth, wife, nag
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
Small Tales
by Michael R. Burch

When Artur and Cai and Bedwyr
were but scrawny lads
they had many a ***** adventure
in the still glades
of Gwynedd.
When the sun beat down like an oven
upon the kiln-hot hills
and the scorched shores of Carmarthen,
they went searching
and found Manawydan, the son of Llyr.
They fought a day and a night
with Cath Pulag (or a screeching kitten),
rousted Pen Palach, then drank a beer
and told quite a talltale or two,
"till thems wasn’t so shore which’un’s tails wus true."

And these have been passed down to me, and to you.

According to legend, Arthur and Kay grew up together in Ector’s court, Kay being a few years older than Arthur. Borrowing from Mary Stewart, I am assuming that Bedwyr (later Anglicized to Bedivere) might have befriended Arthur at an early age. By some accounts, Bedwyr was the original Lancelot. In any case, imagine the adventures these young heroes might have pursued (or dreamed up, to excuse tardiness or “lost” homework assignments). Manawydan and Llyr were ancient Welsh gods. Cath Pulag was a monstrous, clawing cat. (“Sorry teach! My theme paper on Homer was torn up by a cat bigger than a dragon! And meaner, too!”) Pen Palach is more or less a mystery, or perhaps just another old drinking buddy with a few good beery-bleary tales of his own. This poem assumes that many of the more outlandish Arthurian legends began more or less as “small tales,” little white lies which simply got larger and larger with each retelling. It also assumes that most of these tales came about just as the lads reached that age when boys fancy themselves men, and spend much of their free time drinking and puking! Keywords/Tags: King Arthur, boy, boyhood, *****, drinking, beer, ale, tall tales, Wales
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