"steaks" poems
Enfleshed and skinned and stuffed with juicy giblets:
A future worm's-meal of steaks and chops and riblets.
O.O
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 3:27 PM UTC
Mary had a little lamb,
two lobsters and a Christmas ham,
a three-pound tub of chicken wings,
seven bratwurst tied with strings,
thirteen loaves of garlic bread,
a schnitzel bigger than her head,
four rare steaks, a dozen eggs,
caviar and turkey's legs,
strips of bacon, mushroom stew,
chunks of bread and cheese fondue,
and two whole jars of sauerkraut,
(to clean all of her insides out).
Finishing the pasta salad,
Mary soon looked drawn and pallid.
"I don't feel well," poor Mary said.
"I think I need to rest my head."
Then from her stomach came a moan,
a straining, churning, twisted groan.
Mary gasped; her eyes grew wide.
She'd only seconds to decide.
What could she do? Where could she go?
Her stomach was about to blow!
So, reaching for the nearest bucket,
she retched, and then began to chuck it.
All the courses that she'd swallowed,
and the apertifs they'd followed,
all the steaks and all the fish,
each and every single dish
came flying back from in her belly,
filling up the bucket smelly
with a foul and toxic brew,
and no one knew quite what to do,
so this went on for ten whole minutes
till Mary had expelled her innards.
When she was done, her eyes were red,
and sweat was pouring from her head.
"Are you alright, sweet Mary dear?"
her mother asked. She didn't hear.
For Mary was already off -
the waiters saw her try to scoff
the whole entire pudding bar.
Now, this had pushed her mum too far.
"Alright!" her mother cried, "I'm through!
I've done the best that I can do.
I'm sick and tired of all you eat.
I will not pay for all this meat.
I'm going home. Go get some help —"
Then Mary's mum let out a yelp!
She glanced down at her legs and saw
sweet Mary there begin to gnaw!
She struck the lass, but with great haste,
alas, the girl had reached her waist.
As Mary's ma was there devoured
by her offspring, overpowered,
she cried one thing ere final slaughter:
"It smells like lamb in here, my daughter."
Mary licked her lips and grinned.
She belched out loud and then broke wind.
She felt her tummy start to rumble -
and calmly ordered apple crumble.
Dec 18, 2017
Dec 18, 2017 at 4:52 AM UTC
Lightning Strikes 323 Norwegian Reindeer
Hunters made the discovery, stealth and *****
dabbed anoraks all for nothing not to mention
a critical downwind approach and camo blend
that rendered Frode and Jørgen or Ove and Anders
invisible against rock and lichen and cloudberry
but offered little protection against thoughts sublime.
Ove, perhaps, cursing God for poor sportsmanship,
the divine equivalent of dynamiting fish, while Anders
gave silent thanks to fortune, a freezer full of steaks.
Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 8:03 AM UTC
Star light full of silver
Moon beams laced with gold
I'd give you all I gather
For you just to behold
Flecks of gold in sunshine
Silver steaks upon the sea
I'd gather all for you to have
If you would be with me
Gather up the silver dust
Gather up the gold
Gather up the moonlight mist
I will offer up my soul
Gather up the silver dust
Gather up the gold
Gather up the moonlight mist
If you once I just could hold
Emeralds and ruby gems
From rainbows in the sky
I'd gather them for you as well
For you my dear I'd die
I'd mine for diamonds in the night
From the stars up oh so high
I'd gather all if you would be
The one for which I'd die
Gather up the silver dust
Gather up the gold
Gather up the moonlight mist
I will offer up my soul
Gather up the silver dust
Gather up the gold
Gather up the moonlight mist
If you once I just could hold
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 7:16 PM UTC
Go out to the tarmac shove a pig into dirt
Listen to the squeal make sure it hurt
Hogtie'em smack'em on the *** into the van
collect'em off the street and can them in the tan
Ford Transit then we off to the chop shop
The ****** butchers gonna cut some cop
Drag them up feet first arms tied to the side
Hang em up to dry over a reservoir for the gore
Cut the cartery artery while they cry no more
Whats it all for, whats it all for, a long pig cookout
A hairless goat bled out now its time to get guts out
Bleed slows to a drip time to take a head simply twist
Off it comes like pop easy as a ******* croptop
Get your blade nice and sharpish cuz next on the list
Is skinning a cop shave off fuzz into the slop
Then drag a knife from the plexus to the ****
Tie off the **** and yank the excess its painless
**** up and you can try again pick another off the herd
Cut up again and again plenty of pork to slaughter
Almost ready for the grill party just gotta get meat ready
Detach arms, halve and quarter, keep your hands steady
Time to get out the coriander and chili powder
Hammer with a tenderizer on the counter
Cuts of steaks without any guilt, all free range
As I bite into a roast I make a toast to my rage
That made this deranged cookout, pig liver on toast
With some grits and cornbread as the feds approach
Hundred cops'll will roll on the grillmaster
Hundred shots out swiss cheesed by the ********
Read in the paper a monster cop killer
Killed for fighting the terror with terror
Jun 24, 2020
Jun 24, 2020 at 11:12 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
THE NEW YEAR TIGER HAS GRACED US WITH HIS PRESENCE
YA SEE GRAWL GOES THE BIG TIGER
AS WE ARE ABOUT TO CELEBRATE A GREAT NEW YEARS FEAST
YA SEE YOU MIGHT BE SITTING AT HOME
WITH YA KEBABS AND SNAGS AND STEAKS AND ****
BUT I CAN TELL YOU ONE THING
THAT YOU DON’T HAVE TO COOK FOR THE NEW YEAR TIGER
CAUSE BEING A TIGER HE LIKES IT RAW
YEAH ROAR GOES THE NEW YEAR TIGER TONIGHT
ROAR GOES THE NEW YEAR TIGER, YEAH
ROAR GOES THE NEW YEAR TIGER TONIGHT
AND WE’LL PARTY RIGHT TILL MIDNIGHT
MIDNIGHT, THE ONE MIDNIGHT WHEN HE DROP THE BALL, HAVE FIREWORKS DISPLAYS
ALL OVER THE PLACE, AND HAVE A TIGER GROWL
EXPLAINING, HE IS THE NEW YEAR TIGER
AND COMING TO GRAB ALL THE GRUB AND *****
THAN HE CAN POKE A STICK AT
NEW YEAR TIGER NEW YEAR TIGER NEW YEAR TIGER
WHAT A WAY TO END THE YEAR, OH NO, WAY
THE HAPPY GO LUCKY CAT, NEW YEAR TIGER
PARTIES ALL THROUGH THE LAND
YA SEE WE COUNT DOWN WITH HIM
RIGHT DOWN FROM TOP TO BOTTOM OH YEAH
AND THE MEN ASKED THE NEW YEAR TIGER FOR
A NICE COLD CAN OF BEER
DRINK IT DOWN, BURP IT OUT
MAKE THE NEW YEAR FUN, COME UP AND DOWN
MR HAPPY CHICKS SAID TO ME
THE NEW YEAR TIGER IS THE COOLEST ***** THAT YOU’LL EVER SEE
THE NEW YEAR TIGER GROWLS FOR A GOOD TIME
AND GROWLS FOR A BAD TIME
HE GROWLS AT ANYTIME, TO TICKLE YA FANCY
LIKE MY MATE NANCY, DO A DANCEY
LIKE YOUR MATE CLANCY, WHO WAS THE TIGER THEY CROSSED WITH A LION
TO CALL IT A TIGON,
WE WISH YOU A HAPPY NEW YEAR
WE WISH YOU A HAPPY NEW YEAR
WE WISH YOU A HAPPY NEW YEAR
FROM THE NEW YEAR TIGER TO YOU, GROOOOOWWWL, HAPPY NEW YEAR
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 8:38 PM UTC
while i do love
the taste of unhealthy
t.v. dinners for every meal
and i do enjoy
the slobbery salisbury steaks,
extra salty ramen noodles
and those little tuna cans,
it's great to come home
after a long emotional
roller coaster week
and have abuela cook up
some arroz con garbanzos
and unas buenas chuletas,
get the latest family gossip,
comments on how
el gobernador is being
the biggest pendejo
in power at the moment,
watch the news,
see how many were killed this week,
and just shake our heads
as the island crumbles into Detroit like
madness (at least we've got great beaches),
ah but yes,
abuela's cooking,
what i need to forget
the girl with the pretty hair.
Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 2:28 PM UTC
tootsie pops, pop rocks, rock candy
sweet tarts, smelly farts, war-heads, sour patch kids
reeses pieces, reeses stix, snickers lickers
fudge pile, chocolate smile, peanut butter bile, sugary style
baby ruths, almond joys, soy bean sauce, creamy steam
ill give u a payday, mayday, hay tastes good with parfai
milkyways stay gay to play games with sunrays
icing splicing with knife dicing
makes cakes, cook steaks, rumcakes
****** sprinkles, rip van winkle, diddily dinkle
gummy worms, germs impregnate firm, permed urns
angel food, carrots, pineapple upsideways
fruits, ***** parachutes, scooters, jello shooters
goobers, corn on the cobbers,
veggie wedgies, pepper leppers, squash boxes,
fry foxes, fleet rocks', carrot tops',
dishes of fishes,
witches brew platypus and fat kush
pushy slushies riding skateboards on gary busy
fussy hussies getting blushy about cussies
cereal made of creoles, bread straight from dreads,
rice is nice with spice, yeast is beast,
last but not least, wheat is a treat,
kiwis, shmiwis, dodos on go phones, starfruits,
bartlejuice, grape drank, sushi stinks.
ill eat anything.
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 4:50 AM UTC
My most monstrous fear that eats at me
(like a mechanic devours his rare, ****** steak)
is that one day I'll wake up and be normal
(normal as mothers publicly yelling at ADD sons)
that I'll lose my gifts, or any real form of expression
(like the misguided lawyer working on Thanksgiving)
that I'll be another faceless statistic in a fat, thick crowd
(normal as ignoring the gifts we've each inherited)
Dec 8, 2011
Dec 8, 2011 at 5:06 AM UTC
I
The winter evening settles down
With smell of steaks in passageways.
Six o’clock.
The burnt-out ends of smoky days.
And now a gusty shower wraps
The grimy scraps
Of withered leaves about your feet
And newspapers from vacant lots;
The showers beat
On broken blinds and chimney-pots,
And at the corner of the street
A lonely cab-horse steams and stamps.
And then the lighting of the lamps.
II
The morning comes to consciousness
Of faint stale smells of beer
From the sawdust-trampled street
With all its muddy feet that press
To early coffee-stands.
With the other masquerades
That time resumes,
One thinks of all the hands
That are raising dingy shades
In a thousand furnished rooms.
III
You tossed a blanket from the bed,
You lay upon your back, and waited;
You dozed, and watched the night revealing
The thousand sordid images
Of which your soul was constituted;
They flickered against the ceiling.
And when all the world came back
And the light crept up between the shutters,
And you heard the sparrows in the gutters,
You had such a vision of the street
As the street hardly understands;
Sitting along the bed’s edge, where
You curled the papers from your hair,
Or clasped the yellow soles of feet
In the palms of both soiled hands.
IV
His soul stretched tight across the skies
That fade behind a city block,
Or trampled by insistent feet
At four and five and six o’clock;
And short square fingers stuffing pipes,
And evening newspapers, and eyes
Assured of certain certainties,
The conscience of a blackened street
Impatient to assume the world.
I am moved by fancies that are curled
Around these images, and cling:
The notion of some infinitely gentle
Infinitely suffering thing.
Wipe your hand across your mouth, and laugh;
The worlds revolve like ancient women
Gathering fuel in vacant lots.
3.1k
Waking up the morning after,
I can only recall the excessive laughter.
The great vibes shared in one moment in time,
It was all so beautiful, the highest of highs.
****
My glance embarrassingly detects
the frightful fact the mirror reflects.
A bathroom tagged with the night's mistakes,
Rorschach like markings of drinks and rare steaks.
Always said "Yes", lacking all inhibition.
I wish last night I lived its definition.
So I readjust my head and all of the fixtures,
and pray to god no one took any pictures.
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 11:25 AM UTC
In the Presidential Palace, the steaks are served up seared.
There’s an excellent wine cellar for meals expertly prepared.
The Palace is cool in summer; in winter it's toasty warm,
And Maduro and his spouse are always safe and free from harm.
In the streets of Venezuela there is anger and despair.
Inflation is the problem but why should Maduro care.
The store shelves are nearly empty; most people live in fear
There is ****** done in daylight and the sense that chaos nears.
This was once a beautiful, Prosperous land, the envy of the South.
Then a populist Socialist came to drive investors out.
Now a nation, resource rich, has been importing oil,
a nation whose own oil reserves are the greatest in the world.
His critics?- dead or imprisoned; the media is controlled
There’s no term limits on his rule. Voters do as they are told.
Demonstrators, even peaceful, can be shot down in the street
While Maduro sips his wine and decides what next he’ll have to eat.
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 7:27 AM UTC
I thought 4 gallons of petrol was just about right
To get my barbecue fully alight
On went the steak, the chops and some ribs
On went the corn and a couple of squid
Time to relax with a couple of beers
Glance round at my guests and wait for their cheers
But all I see is looks of dismay
As they blink and cough in the black smokey haze
The steaks are cremated the ribs are no more
The chops wont even be eaten by the old dog next door
As for the corn and the squid well they've gone up in smoke
Well its lucky I don't cook like that
I wrote this for a joke
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 1:04 PM UTC
I throw my gun in the back of my truck
With it I hope to **** a 12-point buck
While in the woods, BANG! I see the deer fall
I take him home, freeze the meat, and mount his horns on my wall
I grab my pole and tackle box and head to the lake
At this time in the morning, I feel barely awake
There is no school today, I’m glad there is no class
A mighty tug on my line, I hook a large mouth bass
There is nothing like hunting; waiting for the ****
Cutting and cleaning the meat my freezer I’ll soon fill
Deer steaks and deer jerky have such a great taste
And with his head on my wall nothing goes to waste
I like fishing, fishing is fun
Fishing underneath the rising sun
I like catching the fish and putting them in a net
Fish is a great dish when the table is set
My truck is unstoppable; it can’t beat
I slam the door and strap myself in the seat
I start the engine and press the gas to the floor
My truck takes off and my engine lets out a roar
I wouldn’t be able to hunt or fish if it wasn’t for my truck
With it I carry poles, guns, and my fallen buck
I pull my boat with my truck in four-wheel-drive
At my destination I always arrive
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 1:35 PM UTC
I whacked Rudolph, that showoff with the bright nose
Wakin' me up all night on Christmas Eve
Santa had to cut him off the lead pack
Just to make his rounds on Christmas Eve
I know a lot of eve's and some get naked
But, I got drunk somehow after shopping and banking
Now I don't need no how on keep waking up wasted
I shot him in his brain and sliced his neck
I wacked Rudolph, that showoff with the bright nose
Wakin' me up all night on Christmas Eve
Santa had to cut him off the lead pack
Just to make his rounds on Christmas Eve
Now it's Christmas Day, I have him here
He's hung in my backyard. Oh, what a deer!
Today's a holiday. We'll serve what's near.
And Rudolph's venison will bring on cheer
I whacked Rudolph, that showoff with the bright nose
Wakin' me up all night on Christmas Eve
Santa had to cut him off the lead pack
Just to make his rounds on Christmas Eve
I'm slicing jerkey
I'm slicing meat
I'm cutting steaks
I'm slicing lean
I cut his brains out
Threw them away
His guts and his *****
Have been turned into hay
I whacked Rudolph, that showoff with the bright nose
Wakin' me up all night on Christmas Eve
Santa had to cut him off the lead pack
Just to make his rounds on Christmas Eve
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 1:57 PM UTC
alarm
dogmatical snakebird dictator
**** rooster of electro maniacal damnation
wake
goober eyed ithyphallic mortal yahoo yawns
glacier shuffle to Midas’ bowl
brush
minty hairy pasty headed ********
seafoam ***** on white vanity beaches
shave
deceitful murderous metal cartel scraping
dead shrubs from yesterday’s winter
breakfast
egg flour chalk smack
guzzling bean kerosene
work
batshit bureaucratic badgers bludgeon
muktuk hamsters lubricating wheels of fortune
lunch
butcher’s dead friend between greasy toasted cement
harlot’s heavenly tomato mating cabbage cousin
work
taradiddle of martyrs at jargon’s temple blather
babble, bumble - copulation without ***********
dinner
unicorn steaks, butterfly sauté, and
leprechaun fingers, a side of manslaughter dolphin
sleep
a felon’s holiday
repeat
Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 3:56 AM UTC
St Henry was for Finland, and before he took the land
He wandered through Uppsala with a beer-mug in his hand.
For through his understanding of the Finns and what they are
If you should serve him sahti, it must be in a jar.
St Patrick was for Ireland, and before the snakes were out
He ate a steak, and washed it down with pints of Guinness stout.
For since he was from Ireland, people shouldn't make mistakes:
Unless you give him Guinness, then you mustn't give him steaks.
St Louis was from France, and before he was the king,
He bought champagne and cheeses and he ate like anything.
For since he was from France, I must say it once again:
Unless you give him cheeses, then there must be no champagne.
Dec 15, 2010
Dec 15, 2010 at 6:34 PM UTC
The **** shovelman sits by the railroad track
Eating a noon meal of bread and bologna.
A train whirls by, and men and women at tables
Alive with red roses and yellow jonquils,
Eat steaks running with brown gravy,
Strawberries and cream, eclaires and coffee.
The **** shovelman finishes the dry bread and bologna,
Washes it down with a dipper from the water-boy,
And goes back to the second half of a ten-hour day's work
Keeping the road-bed so the roses and jonquils
Shake hardly at all in the cut glass vases
Standing slender on the tables in the dining cars.
2k
Life flows through the doors,
Dispersed by the ceiling fan,
A makeover for every patron,
The waitress serves a second chance.
Ex-husband but current parent,
Negotiating with a teenage daughter,
Two untouched lunch plates,
As the gap grows further and further.
Central focus being on a book cover,
Held by an E.R nurse still in her scrubs,
The waitress tries to decipher a meaning,
All while wiping leftovers from table tops.
The calender on the wall says Friday,
And in walks a sundress along with a button down,
Two steaks and a red rose,
Right up comes the waitress with a dinner to astound.
Beginnings and ends in motion,
The clock cues for the 40-something man,
In the far corner he sips his black coffee,
Forlorn eyes of a widow staring at a wedding band.
Wiping beads of sweat from her forehead,
Retying her hair into a secured knot,
Exhaustion slowly kicking in,
As she refills the coffee ***
The college girl strolling in with her book bag,
Smiles with pity at her as she gives her order,
She thinks of how her minimum wage must look,
But her love for her job makes her smile never falter.
Days are something treasured,
Every hour, a different movie plays,
She collects all those stories,
With the tip left after the customer pays.
Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 4:54 PM UTC
I live in the East
You live in the West
I roll to the right
You lean to the left
You watch the game,
I text my friends for fun.
You write every day,
What awaits me is always unsung.
I'm one that loves vanilla
While you prefer your chocolate
You live life in the open
I tend to close and lock it
I like the night,
You await the morning.
My sunsets, purple and pink,
Your sunrise has orange hues adorning.
I'm early to bed early to rise
You never seem to close your eyes
These days I'm moving rather slow
As you're always on the go
You have your coffee with cream,
I have my Kombucha tea.
You grill up some steaks to eat,
I say pass the salad to me.
Though we're miles apart
In differences between
Commonality we definitely
Have in our love of poetry
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 10:34 PM UTC
I don't want to seem like a barbecue **** but please won't you turn that meat!
If it wasn't bad enough you put it on early that chicken just won't stand the heat
Your confounding the issue by loading on bangers for the dripping fat's sure to ignite
With those flames getting higher and your steaks all on fire, you know you're not doing it right
Black on the outside and pink in the middle, is not how you're supposed to do chicken
And even revamped your bathroom's too cramped, for all of your guests to be sick in
"It's time" you declare, as you pull up a chair "is anyone ready for grub!?"
But with no contemplation, I'll ditch this cremation, I'm ******* off back down the pub!
Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 9:56 AM UTC
THE PARTY AT PRINCE REGENT HOTEL FOR NEW YEARS
YA SEE WE PARTIED AT PRINCE REGENT HOTEL
ON NEW YEARS EVE, OH YEAH THAT SOUND SWEET
YA SEE THE CHEF HAD A BIG FRY UP WITH LEFT OVER SNAGS AND STEAKS
UEAH THAT SOUNDS SO COOL
AND ALL THE MEN SAT IN THE CORNER, DUDE
SAYING TOO EACH OTHER, WHAT A FINE COLLECTION OF *****
AND ONE FATHER GAVE HISW 8 YEAR OLD DAUGHTER SCOTCH AND COKE
AND DESPITE THE HOTEL STAFF HATING IN, THEIR HANDS WERE TIED
GREG LIKED THAT INTEGRITY, OH YEAH, DUDES, THOUGHT IT WAS RAD
CAUSE GREG WASN’T GOING TO BE LABLED A PARTY POOPER
IN EVERY STRETCH OF THE IMAGINATION
GREG DECIDED TO LAY LOW FOR A WHILE, SO HE GOT DRESSED UP AS THE NEW YEAR TIGER, DUDE
AND PUT ON A LITTLE SHOW FOR THE KIDS TO ENJOY THEIR NEW YEARS
GREG WAS A BIT WEIRD CAUSE HE WAS FORCING KIDS TO LISTEN TO HIM LISTEN TO HIM LISTEN TO HIM
THE KIDS WERE TIRED BUT GREG STILL FORCED THE KIDS TO LISTEN TO HIS NEW YEAR TIGER SHOW
YA SEE THIS DAY WAS START OF MY PARANORMAL VOICES YA SEE
YOU SEE ROSLYN MARRIED ME, CAUSE I WAS FORCING KIDS TO WATCH MY SHOWS
WHETHER THEY WERE TIRED OR NOT
YA SEE, WHEN I WAS YOUNG IN THIS LIFE, I HEARD VOICES OF PEOPLE TALKING ABOUT ME, BEHIND MY BACK
I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT TO MAKE OF IT AT FIRST, AND PEOPLE ARE RIBBING ME, BY SAYING SHUT UP WOOSEY
TO ME, AND NOW AS I REMEMBER, AS THE DINNER WAS OVER, JOSEPH PEANUCKLE
DECIDED TO GO TO HIS SUITE TO GET HIS FLUTE TO ENTERTAIN THE CROWD
AND THE LADIES AND MEN DANCED WITH EACH OTHER AND GREG AND THE
HOTEL STAFF WERE TALKING TO EACH OTHER, ISN’T THIS WONDERFUL
AND EACH OF US HAS 6 MILLION POUNDS EACH, AND IF EACH OF THE STAFF
PUTS IN 1 MILLION POUNDS, PRINCE REGENT HOTEL CAN GET THE COUNTRY CLUB UPGRADE
THAT IT THOROUGHLY DESERVES, AND AS THEY PARTY INTO THE NIGHT, AT 11.55 PM
GREG DRESSED UP AS THE NEW YEAR TIGER AND SANG
I AM A TIGER IN A TOP HAT
A TIGER IN A WHITE TIE
AND WE’LL PARTY ON DOWN
YA SEE, I AM A TIGER IN A TOP HAT
A TIGER IN A WHITE TIE
AND COUNT ‘EM OWN
HE REPEATED THAT TILL THE BIG COUNTDOWN
AND LED THE COUNTDOWN
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 AND YELLED OUT HAPPY NEW YEAR
AND JOSEPH PLAYED AULD LENG ZINE ON THE FLUTE
AND PLAYED OTHER SONGS ON THE FLUTE TILL 1-29 AM IN THE MORNING
ALL THE HOTEL GUESTS, ALL WENT TO BED, WHILE GREG AND THE HOUSE KEEPERS
WERE CLEANING UP AFTERWARDS, AND THIS HAPPENED EVERY YEAR OF THE
1817 TO 1819, THE 1820S THE 1830S THE 1840S
AND GREG WAS GREAT, EACH YEAR BRINGING THE NEW YEAR IN WITH A GRIN
HAPPY NEW YEAR, FROM THE OLD FASHIONED PRINCE REGENT HOTEL
AND ALL UPGRADES WERE SUCCESSFUL, MELBOURNE WERE THE TALK OF THE COUNTRY BACK THEN
HAPPY NEW YEAR
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 10:28 AM UTC