"beers" poems
between the *******
of *******
Marj lie large
men who praise
Marj’s cleancornered strokable
body these men’s
fingers toss trunks
shuffle sacks spin kegs they
curl
loving
around
beers
the world has
these men’s hands but their
bodies big and boozing
belong to
Marj
the greenslim purse of whose
face opens
on a fatgold
grin
hooray
hoorah for the large
men who lie
between the *******
of ******* Marj
for the strong men
who
sleep between the legs of Lil
40.1k
I march to a different drummer
My life it is my own
I'm an explorer of experience
That is how I'm known
I've seen snow in South Dakota
I've been on the Vegas strip
Had barbeque in Kansas
My life has been a trip
I'm a gypsy of the railways
I'm a legend in my time
I move on in a boxcar
Brother... spare a dime?
I've been through all the landlocked states
Five provinces as well
I've seen Niagara Falls all frozen
I've seen it flowing fast as well
I've had margaritas in Key West
And Bourbon in Kentucky
Craft beers out in Oregon
In my life I have been lucky
I travel on my stories
Feed myself with all my tales
I'm an explorer of experience
I'm a gypsy of the rails
I never stick around too long
I don't wear my welcome out
I come and see just what I want
That's what life is all about
I've railroad friends in Texas
Some up in BC too
We've shared drinks in San Diego
And had a great Alaskan brew
I'm not one to live by your rules
I find my rules suit me fine
I'm an explorer of experience
And I'm riding on the lines
You can find me down in Georgia
Or eating spuds in Idaho
I never know just where I'll be
Until my ride begins to go
I'm a gypsy of the railways
I'm a legend in my time
I move on in a boxcar
Brother...spare a dime?
Feb 21, 2014
Feb 21, 2014 at 12:12 PM UTC
Mark A. Williams
SEPTEMBER 14, 1962 – JULY 23, 2018
___________________________________________________________
Wow Mark,
Was so, so saddened to hear this news. I haven't seen you in over ten years, but as kids, we had some amazing adventures, didn't we? Partying, camping and swimming at the Hudson lime pits. Mowing down on Pizza and pitchers of Pepsi (and as we grew up, BEER!) at Pizza Hut. (We knew the numbers to ALL the songs on that jukebox by heart!) Hanging out and looking at the stars through Budvido's telescope, listening to Doctor Demento. Laughing hysterically as we ran through Monty Python skits as everyone looked on in total puzzlement because THEY wouldn't discover them until YEARS later!
Building underground forts in the North Woods. You, Budvido, Zeke and I playing pinball at 7-11 for hours and hours. Watching Bands, chasing girls and playing Foosball or Pool at the Touch of Class Teen Club. You gave me my first Imported beer . . . a Lowenbrau. I will always owe my passion for those German beers to you and it was fitting that Budvido bestowed you with that moniker.
All through Jr. High, sharing a seat on the school bus. You, Matt, Tom, Buddy and I cruising around late night on our bikes for hours. Hanging around in the Jasmine Lakes sign with hijacked beer or getting free bags of Burgers from Burger Queen when they closed at night! Jousting with shopping carts on our bikes in the Winn-Dixie parking lot. Sitting up all night in Jimi's room after climbing in through the window or going on endless space cruises with him and Raymond in the Toyota.
(RIP Jimi Carlsen)
Sneaking into the nudest Colony and skinny dipping! Always cracking up at the school lunch table. Swimming in my pool and terrorizing my sister and her friends. (Allegedly) Trashing that crook Fast Eddie's produce stand after he refused to pay us for a full day of picking watermelons!
Good times, indeed . . . Some of my most precious memories.
I can only pray that you know that I wouldn't trade my youth or you in it for anything in the world and you will be sadly missed, Lowenbrau, my old friend.
I hope that where you are, your beers are ice cold and that you and Jimi aren't having to glue the Hookah back together.
Jeff Gaines
July 28, 2018
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 7:00 AM UTC
~a question of a thousand dreams~^
“Where are you going now my love? Where will you be tomorrow? Will you bring me happiness? Will you bring me sorrow? All the questions of a thousand dreams, what you do and what you see”
this one composes itself
for all dreams go unremembered
the first, the thousandth, the every in between,
erased by the push button of opening eyes
but dreams come, marching in, saints mining the raw materiel
the quartermaster has stored, awaiting requisition by an
unarmed unnamed corp, witnessed but never seen
these dreams wisped soft willow budded, tempting taunting,
leaving nothing but unanswered questions that colored come
in black and white
elementary clues,
a pillow indentation,
single hair that stretches
across the sea between two pillows that is blonde or red
but
certainly unmine,
dregs of soured sentiment linger like the
aftertaste of too many coffees and stainless steel beers
heated summers breezes give no succor or relief,
and the rain following gives no pleasure,
for now you are hot and soaked,
but somewhere in there a dream is part replayed,
and eyes widening in major league surprise,
the question acknowledged, the dreams quest hinted
she has gone, neither happiness or sorrow will she
provide on the morrow, no toweling of your wet hair fair,
and you awake sweat besotted, it is not rain, just pain,
and it is only one dream a thousand times repeated
and what you do and what you see
is the abraded night ahead, and
you bitter laugh, for there is no more other than to think,
the question answered, and you beg relief by
uttering
“perchance to dream”
3:49 pm
see the notes!!
someone accuses me of Plagiarism
because I did not acknowledge that the quote in marks and Italics was from a famous song written 39 years ago
so here is my response to
“just saying”
congratulations on ******* me off
and yes I agree, you do not know the rules
“#1: Quotation Marks Are for Quoting People—Verbatim
Perhaps it should go without saying, but quotation marks are for quoting people. Quoting doesn’t mean summarizing or paraphrasing; it means repeating exactly what someone said. If you put double quotes around a phrase, your reader will often assume that someone, somewhere, said that exact phrase or sentence.“
http://thevisualcommunicationguy.com/2013/09/11/10-things-you-really-need-to-know-about-quotation-marks/
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 3:59 PM UTC
Borderline Personality Disorder.
1. The other day I woke up and thought I knew who I was
I fell asleep and somewhere in between I lost myself
I lost the feeling in my stomach too
but we're still talking about how much we have in common.
2. My sweater got stuck on the hanger this morning
I started to rip it down
eventually I broke plastic and skin.
I haven't been back in my room since.
3. 12:06 PM Today my best friend came home and took most of our makeup
12:07 PM I messaged her and mocked our friendship.
12:07 PM She was in trouble with her grandma and had to hurry. She didn't know.
12:08 PM I broke down crying.
4. I woke up at 7:32 AM and took 4 shots
drank 2 beers
smoked four bowls
drank half a bottle of NyQuil and woke up the next day.
I have yet to figure out why.
5. I wanted to be a horse trainer for 9 years
then I decided I wanted to be an artist
worked on becoming a tattoo artist
matured into a writer
fell in love with photography
now I'm not even sure if I like school.
6. First scars appeared at 9
worst scars at 15.
First attempt at 10
almost wasn't an attempt at 14.
7. I've been happy the past few days
but I still want to **** myself
because soon I'll be drowning in depression
and succumbing to anxiety.
9. Once I got so bored
I thought myself into sorrow.
I didn't come out for a few hours
but by dinner I was laughing.
10. I used to be in love with a boy
but I didn't know
so I used whatever I could get
and now I'm alone.
I don't blame him.
11. I've mentally lost myself
as I screamed into the mirror
and it wasn't me talking to myself.
I don't really remember being there
but I was.
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 5:50 AM UTC
Blessed are we all to live in a time
when the love of Craft beer exceeds that for wine.
Hops, malt and barley all now rule the day
When brewed up together in a nice I.P.A.
Who cares if some hipsters choose to babble away
about hints of oak in some obscure Chardonnay.
We are no longer limited to our father’s Budweiser.
The vast choice of beers would astound those old timers!
Cherry Wheat, pumpkin, and Oktoberfest
You’ll fall down on your face ere you’ve tried all the rest.
As Ben Franklin stated wittily and succinctly”
“Beer is the proof God meant man to be happy.”
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 7:56 PM UTC
between the concrete river
& the park where the bums share a bottle
wrapped in a brown paper sack,
there is a cul-de-sac of plastic houses
holding hands & sharing manicured lawns
wooden cars that don't even make any smoke
drive down gray asphalt streets.
fathers that tell mothers they have jobs
wear down street corners sharing beers with the bums,
like they already are one.
all these paper families rubbing shoulders
until everyone has paper cuts.
going home to dinner around a table full of paper love.
suburbia is flimsy
paper towns shining white
smiling neighbors & shared lawns
paper people slowly falling apart.
couples with their tongues down each other's throats,
midnight in supermarket parking lots
dribbling beer in the backseat
they bought off the bums.
they say,
I love you, I love you, I love you.
until she leaves for a paper husband
& he leaves for a paper wife.
now they live on two separate cul-de-sacs
with the same cutout love,
as the parents they despised.
& when they have kids one day
they will tell them
*never kiss before driving,
never befriend bums,
or guzzle cheap beer in backseats,
or on park swings.
& never settle for a paper husband
or a paper wife.*
remembering the love
that was flimsy,
but never paper.
100,000 miles away from where they grew up
& 3,000 miles away from each other
3 kids each & plastic houses
rubbing shoulders & sharing lawns
living in a paper thin suberbia
chafing under their paper love.
Apr 15, 2017
Apr 15, 2017 at 3:09 AM UTC
Friedrich Claus Owner at Self-Employed
All copyright belongs above
Tax his land, tax his wage,
Tax his bed in which he lays.
Tax his tractor, tax his mule,
Teach him taxes is the rule.
Tax his cow, tax his goat,
Tax his pants, tax his coat.
Tax his ties, tax his shirts,
Tax his work, tax his dirt.
Tax his chew, tax his smoke,
Teach him taxes are no joke.
Tax his car, tax his grass,
Tax the roads he must pass.
Tax his food, tax his drink,
Tax him if he tries to think.
Tax his sodas, tax his beers,
If he cries, tax his tears.
Tax his bills, tax his gas,
Tax his notes, tax his cash.
Tax him good and let him know
That after taxes, he has no dough.
If he hollers, tax him more,
Tax him until he’s good and sore.
Tax his coffin, tax his grave,
Tax the sod in which he lays.
Put these words upon his tomb,
“Taxes drove me to my doom!”
And when he’s gone, we won’t relax,
We’ll still be after the inheritance tax.
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 6:26 AM UTC
You know, there's always a song that takes me back
To a year, so long before
It's not always a top ten song
That hits my very core
It just grabs me and transports me
Back in time while standing still
It might take me to a good place
Release a memory I should ****
But, my soundtrack is different
It's not just music in my mind
There's sounds that make my playlist up
Sounds of a different kind
A baseball smacking leather
God, that sets me free
Some good, some bad, some coaching
Some involve my ******* up knee
The click on every eight track
When it switches channels to play on
Brings back those early mornings
when the house cleaning was done
But, music, yes the music
makes a large part of my list
Some take me back to dances
And the girls I never kissed
The good songs stretch my senses
Make me smell things from the past
The memories still linger
While the music didn't last
Sirens, car wrecks, yelling
Have their place on my list too
It's not music to most people
It made my list though, who knew?
A sound as small as raindrops
Take me back to a morning when
I stood on line with a hundred others
Brave women and brave men
Cornwallis, Nova Scotia
rain and U2 take me on a track
To basic training on the east coast
Wow, that's 25 years back
A car crash and a siren
Takes me to when I met my wife
This was on the television
when Princess Di, she lost her life
So, my soundtrack is eclectic
It's not just music fuels my trips
It might be a golf ball bouncing
That takes me through a time warp slip
A song, that's just too easy
Everyone has one of those
But, can you travel back, oh, 30 years
When someone blows their nose?
There's more sounds that effect me
But, those I think I'll hide
I will write about them later
And I will take you on that ride
In 50 years of living
Lots of sounds have hit my ears
We'll sit and chat about them
One day over a few beers....
Aug 4, 2012
Aug 4, 2012 at 5:05 PM UTC
At home all alone
No one I can phone
Bread is now toasted
I'll just eat instead
Bread in place of love
If push comes to shove
Beers will be my pals
If there are no gals
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 7:04 PM UTC
I find
Myself
Among common folk
Amidst the real deal
Throwing beers back
Gulping shots
Admitting false guilts
Believing hateful ideals
Bad things
Happen when not
In the right mind
You can't remember
What went wrong
Or
What went perfectly right
But she remains
Beautiful in my memories
Absolutely breathtaking
In my
Lucid dreams
As gorgeous as
a Leonid Afremov painting
Like a hailstorm in august
Unexpected but
Gorgeous
Like you
My dear
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 10:44 PM UTC
With gentle cheeky smiles and cheery cheers,
You endeared yourself to your deary dears,
My jealousy rose up like the towering tiers,
of classic wedding cake infused with beers,
Drunk even more in love without you here,
Us becoming strangers made me shed tears,
Somehow your babbling is a delight to hear,
But you're getting far away, not even near.
Sep 19, 2015
Sep 19, 2015 at 5:28 AM UTC
Black cabs and ab-dabs.
Dashing through London streets,
High heels and crippled feet.
Back street bars,
wealthy sheiks,
ever running,
Hide and seek.
Black panther's in lippy,
Colourful hippies.
Turbans and tunics,
Kiddies in cotton, with mud on their bottoms.
Big Whigs and stiff prigs.
Market stalls and rubber *****
Undergrounds and all around.
City beats, it's hopping on.
On and off off of buses and train.
London love life, kicking pain.
Picks up his drink and thinks like a fish.
A couple more beers, three seconds of fun.
Slipped into his glass.
Glass one, two three,
Freedom four.
Needs more.
(c) LIVVI
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 5:25 AM UTC
Flipping threw my old yearbook
I see girls who were once gorgeous
tooken my the devils hand
pregnant and life beaten now
horrendous
I remember seeing them
with there cheerleading outfits on
As I sat in a corner by myself
I here them laughing and chatting
about going to tonys house after school
I remember tony strong handsome captain of the highschool world
I saw him two weeks ago
With his hands covering his face
And a shot next to him
3 empty beers infront
He really let himself go I remember thinking
fat and forgotten about
still clinging to that highschool dream
I remember him saying I was a loser as he flipped my lunch tray
and humiliated me by reading my little notebook of writes
I remember saying to him
one day ill have the last laugh
one day ill see you down and out
and you'll ask me for a handout
going back to the bar I sit down
A couple stools down to see if he recognised me
He finished his 3 beers as I finished my long island ice tee
he said to the bar tender I gotta ***
be right back
I followed him to the restroom
and we were a ****** apart
I looked over and seen his small patheic *****
as I looked at my *****
I laughed
and I laughed
and I laughed
looked over at tony
and said see sir
I did get the last laugh
and I left
I hope he knows me now
I hope he knows me now
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 10:25 PM UTC
we had been mopping
the kitchen floor all day
and the dirt never
stopped coming back
and earlier we had sprayed
the entire front porch
down with the garden hose
and now it was still wet
which made it feel as if
it had recently rained when in fact
the grass was a crunchy
brown carpet of regrets.
the night before we had
drunk orange smoothies
laced with lime and something
aged sleek and dark
(i think it must have been
the reason we couldn't
sleep that night
lay awake in my parents bed
and i told you why i
wouldn't go swimming
until the sun rose
the dog barked
the birds screamed
their morning songs
and my body stopped its
nightly spasms of fear.)
and the next evening
we put on a miranda lambert song
(the one we drank to
in your mother's van last winter)
sat on the wet
porch swing
and cracked open
our first beers
they were
really bad
i gagged
because it tasted
like carbonated
banana bread with
too much stale
baking soda
and we poured half of them
into the flower beds
the next morning
was sunday
and we had milk and muffins
in the kitchen with
simon and garfunkel
then went back out to the porch
drank iced coffee in the
eleven o'clock sunlight
and you said
"if this were a normal sunday
i would have been up at six
at church by eight
and done teaching my first
sunday school class by ten."
(is beer as much
of an acquired taste
as coffee is?
because i can't ever
remember not liking it
i used to think it was
bitter but i always
liked it anyway.)
i didn't say anything
because i didn't want to
say what was on the tip
of my tongue
that this kind of sunday
had become my normalcy
and our variety of saturday night
no longer felt like underage
drinking and more like
the way i was meant to be.
Aug 20, 2016
Aug 20, 2016 at 3:15 PM UTC
Went down, slippery cold stairs
Spiraling down, words on walls,
The paper sheets?
Heard the music down there...
Down... Down...
I've heard it before;
Down... Down... Rumble down...
An underground celebration,
So I went - down.
(the cave)
Infants were there, dark rooms,
Bathing in the boiling red wine,
Laughing madly in the fumes,
The ceiling and walls were moist and dripping.
These babies, visages of chimera,
Evil grins cutting their faces,
Evil smiles, gruesome masks
and cigars in their hands, claws...
-Stop!!!
This I will unleash,
One day, whiskey, liqours,
Yeah.
Beers, drinks... rumbling.
Calm dark surface of the lake
At night
And the carnival nearby,
Mile away or so...
you can hear their sounds,
muted slightly;
faint lights of torches,
at the other side of lake.
Weird tribesmen
Praising the summer solstice
With howls, maracas,
Tiny bells, dance,
Fire.
-But listen to me now!
Now, when you hear me,
Look here, look closely.
Put your hand in me,
Can't you feel I'm almost boiling?
I'm no mud, I'm a clear water,
Almost as a spring!
Swift and clear - and hot.
and dark.
Jan 4, 2018
Jan 4, 2018 at 6:43 PM UTC
With her cowpoke
She went riding out with him
One dark and windy day.
The desert had forsaken their love and left their hearts astray.
As sharp as a cactus' spine, her lips did pine for days.
They sat around their victim's pyres tasting burnt bone, curdled blood.
She saw the mess of her cowpoke, blonde and brown beauties layed in the mud.
She asked why must these girls die
If their looks were truly good
He mumbled that his heart had been broken by the stormy flood.
So they swept across Arizona with it's bright windy haze
And withdrew their revolvers with eyes that met in gaze
They downed a couple of beers in the dusky saloon
Until right in front of them was the old rusty moon
Tonight she will riding out in the ****** lands
Where with her man she'll be soaking her rigid hands
In wine that oozes from the corpses in the sands
And in the sheets ridin' she'll take command.
Jul 27, 2017
Jul 27, 2017 at 9:40 AM UTC
He belches verses of prayer
from the acidity of his gut,
staggering upright
on two toddler feet,
he trails drunkenly
to the fridge,
scarce with only a few dented beers,
a bucketful of ice to feed him,
till the next scroungers pay-check is due.
Cracking open a frozen one,
it hisses a warrior's cry,
loud in the stillness
then dies swiftly,
as he raises the carcass to his split lip
swilling alcoholic entrails
round him gums.
Wincing slightly,
the beer half-empty in his hand,
he twitches a pink eye
in pain
as something rolls
around his jaw,
the made-of-man pinball stage
has begun a game
without him.
Gathering his saliva
into a hard bullet,
he spits the foreign object
onto splintered floorboards,
where his last tooth lands,
a final casualty
of his handsome youth.
May 9, 2012
May 9, 2012 at 4:18 PM UTC
My girlfriend
Recently
Moved in with me
So she decided
To call her friend,
Who was also
A close friend of mine,
For a couple of beers
In the now 'our' house.
Carmel Scotts
Arrived, knocked,
At around 9,
And girlfriend let him in
And his motorcycle
Sat outside near my
****** old car.
He was a skinny
Ill skin tone guy
Due to his being a
Poppy aficionado,
And he dressed
Like he belonged at
A London punk rock
Concert in the early 80s.
He came in
With his huge mohawk
Flipping God and the system off
And his boots
Knock knock knocking
On Satan's roof.
'Sup' 'Sup' 'Beer?'
'Yeah man, of course'
And we drank and drank
And the now 'our' clock's hands
Moved and struck
12.
We were quite drunk.
I put on
That record
By The Stooges
That we loved
And went to take a ****
When I came back
Iggy was moaning about
Some Deathe Car
While on the now 'our' floor
Carmel crouched
Like a tiger
Above girlfriend's opened legs
As she too moaned
Being eaten alive by
the now 'our' friend.
They were really going at it
And didn't notice I was back.
I was mad,
Really ****** mad.
I was about
To slam him
Off girlfriend and beat him
To a pulp
When suddenly, I woke up.
I remembered
That I don't have a girlfriend,
(I never have had one)
And I don't have a punk friend
(Or any friend really).
So from mad
I turned sad
And got drunk without both of em.
Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 12:32 AM UTC
When my ****** showed up on under the "people you may know" tab on fb. It felt like the closest to investigating a crime scene that I've ever been.
That is if you don't count the clock work ****** that I make of my own memory every time I go down Colfax avenue.
Still
I sit in my living room and I search for clues.
Click
He is Smiling...
And I see myself caught in his teeth,
He's Dancing in some club In a city I have never been to.
Click.
He is eating sushi over a few beers with friends
And I am under his finger nails.
Click,
I know that alley.
Click.
I killed the memory of that t shirt.
Click.
This...
Is a baby picture,
There is also an older man,
Presumably his father.
They're are both round, And bright and still
Smiling....
Click.
He is shirtless,
And I see myself in the weight room mirror,
"#beastmodeselfie"
I call him the WOLF, when I write about him.
The WOLF!
So as to make him as story book as possible.
The WOLF!
When I write about him.
Which is to say my
Memory..
Escapes the ****** When the internet suggests it.
Facebook, Informs me we have
3
Mutual
Friends..
Which is to say, That he is people you may know.
And that, I AM People you may know.
And there are people who know,
And people that don't know,
And people that DONT KNOW THAT I WANT TO KNOW,
people that I am afraid to LET KNOW,
and probably people that know him,
That know of me, that know OF the word
NO!
NO!
NO!
NO is a flock of sleeping sheep sitting in my mouth.
And now.....
Now I know the wolf's middle name...
And what he listens to on spofiy.
And the all to familiar company he keeps,
And he can no longer be
"The wolf."
Or the nameless grave I dig for
Myself.
We have...
3
Mutual
friends
on Facebook.
And now it feels as if they
Are holding the shovel.
64 people..
liked the shirtless gym pic.
4 people
Have told me that they'd rather I said
Nothing.
2 police officers,
Told me I must give his act a
name
or it didn't happen!
That obviously I could have
Fought back.
Which is to say
No one comes running for young boys who cry
****
When I told my brother,
He also asked why I didn't fight back.
Adam....
I am...
Right now.
I promise.
Everyday, I write a poem titled
"Tomorrow"
It is a hand written list
Of the people I know that
Love me.
And I make sure to put my own name at the top
By Kevin kantor
Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 11:25 PM UTC
Over the handle bars and up the road,
hold on tight,here we go,
waving on to the people going by,
this man, oh you know, he was never shy,
the friendly smile was not just every once and awhile,
always there ,an ear to share,
a heart, oh he really did care.
The peeky cap, if you stole he'd snap
"you're never too old for a slap",
them shining eyes, often spoke of his 3 boys,
when they where young& the things they done,
he never forgot, the two who complete the lot,
two wonderful girls for years were there by his side,
the stories he'd share,
he'd tell of his wife, the woman who complete his life,
her beautiful looks they were always a must.
through the years,was fond of his beers,
always an eexcuse to raise 3 cheers,
a man full of laughter and everyone would follow after,
he'd joke, you'd choke leaving you with a croke.
when he was around, there was never a frown,
one thing he wouldn't do, was bring you down,
you know he was messing, if he was in your life a blessing,
a true gent, in his company time well spent,
a man so strong, a hero, in our hearts he belongs!
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 6:58 PM UTC
I am tired of sneaking out
And getting in his creaky old truck
Staying up so **** late
Sneaking back in at 6 am
And then getting drunk
Isn't me
Isn't fun
I can't sleep
I don't want to eat
A sickness in my stomach
Lurking to come.
Happy New Years,
Have more than a couple beers,
And regret it later.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 7:06 PM UTC
AUSTRALIA DAY, BY THE BBQ
CHEER CHEER FOR THE CROWD YS SEE
THE PEOPLE WHO COME TO YOUR BBQ
YOU SEE YOU COOK SAUSAGES A VERY NICE COLD COKE
AND EACH MAN HAS BEER
YEAH YOU SEE EVERYONE YOU SEE WILL PARTY YESEREE
YEAH IT’S ANOTHER AUSTRALIA DAY BY THE BBQ
I BRING OUT 6 ESKIES WITH 400 BEERS
THIS WILL MAKE THE MEN HAPPY
OH BLODDY ****** DEAR
YOU SEE, THERE IS A FEW WELL DONE STEAKS AND A FEW EGG AND BACON ROLLS
OH YEAH, ****** COOL
YOU SEE WE SIT BY THE LAKE IN OUR BLUE AUSSIE GEAR
AND WATCH THE LOVELY FIREWORKS, YEAH, LET’S GRAB US ANOTHER BEER
DON’T FORGET, THERE IS OUR THEORY, DUDE, LAMB LAMB LAMB OH DEAR
YEAH LAMB WILL PUT IN THE A IN AUSTRALIA DAY, YEAH IT WILL OH YEAH
THEN A MAN CAME UP TO ME, AND TOLD ME WATCHA DOING
ARE YOU ENJOYING AUSTRALIA DAY, LIKE IT’S A DAY WORTH CELEBRATING
I HAVE BEEN TO CITIES, THAT HAVE A LOT OF PENANG
FROM FLORIDA, CHICAGO AND THE GREAT BUDAPEST
AND NO MATTER HOW FAR OR HOW WIDE YA ROME
YOU CAN ALWAYS CALL AUSTRALIA
A PERFECT PLACE TO HAVE BBQs, ON JANUARY 26TH
AND WE CHEER COME ON AUSSIR COME ON, YEAH, COME ON AUSSIE COME ON
YA KNOW EACH BOWLER IS COMING DOWN LIKE A MACHINE
THE OPPOSTION IS PLAYING NUMSKULL GAMES IN THE GREEN
WE ARE SCORING RUNS, THROW OUT YA CHEWING GUM
AQND THIS IS THE GREATEST AUSTRALIA DAY, THAT WE’VE EVER SEEN
GO AND HAVE LAMB ON AUSTRALIA DAY
AUSSIE AUSSIE AUSSIE, OI OI OI
HAPPY AUSTRALIA DAY DUDES
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 7:13 AM UTC
You walked into the parking lot surrounded
By the smell of cheap perfume, gasping for air,
I'd actually climbed 2 flights of stairs,
And the man who brought us to the garage
Told me that my poor baby, my poor sweet car
Was to be left in there for more than a week,
She'd sprung a leak and the doctor was saying
So much that I wish he'd just not even speak,
Cursed old man, watch when you drink the beers!
The double trouble had turned into a smashing spiral,
My banged up car was so good through the years,
It made my boring reclusive life seem so meaningful.
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 2:33 AM UTC