Poetry

[Jan Van Quirm]

Mongo -

[MongoGutman]

thanks

[Tiffany]

Thank you for adding the rest of the story, Mongo. It truly is a circle that goes on & on.

[MongoGutman]

Two swing songs - the first is for a crooner, say a young Sinatra -

My Big Baby

My big baby's as fat as a pig
The whole world shakes when she does a jig
A blimp's as round but not as big
To count her chins you need to use some trig,
I really love, I really love her so.

My big baby, she's such a wide load
When she goes out she blocks the road
She got a letter from the city, whaddya s'pose:
She's been given her own area code.
I really love, I really love her so.

This feller couldn't feel better
She's massive and she's passive
I chased her and I caught her
But when she sat on my lap
She nearly squashed me flat!

My big baby's always in an eating mood
For anything baked fried boiled or stewed
And if you don't want to see them chewed
Better keep your fingers away from her food.
I really love, I really love her so.

My big baby, I don't think
Would ever drown if she fell in the drink
For though the ocean might turn pink
All that blubber could never sink
I really love, I really love her so.

This feller couldn't feel better
She's massive and she's passive
I chased her and I caught her
But when she sat on my lap
She nearly squashed me flat!

Me and my baby we love to spoon
Her sloppy kisses they make me swoon
When we go out she eclipses the moon
But I'm going to her soon
'Cause I really love, I really love her so

She's my baby and I'm her bloke
I've lost count of the chairs she's broke
She could eat a turkey whole and never choke
When she stood on some scales they started to smoke.
I really love, I really love her so.
I really love, I really love.
Every.
Sweaty.
Wobbling.
Pound of her so!

~finis~

- and this one for a smallish band, Louis Jordan style

plain text: vocalist/band leader
italics: shouted questions from various band members
CAPITALS: all band shouting together.


That Woman

That woman, she aint no good for you
No, that woman, she 's just no good for you
- So what is she good for then?
She's good for a drink, good for a time
Bur when morning comes you gonna be cryin'
'Cause that woman, she aint no good for you.

That Woman, she don't care 'bout you
That Woman, she just don't care 'bout you
- What do she care about, Boss?
She cares for your money, cares for your dough
And when it's all gone, why then she'll blow
No, that woman, don't care nothing for you.

That woman, she won't treat you right
That woman, she aint gonna treat you right
- How is she gonna treat him?
She'll treat you like a fool, treat you like a dog
Treat you to a lesson from the school of hard knocks,
That woman she just won't treat you right.

That woman, she's too fast for you
That woman, she's much too fast for you
- Just how fast is this broad?
She's fast as a twister or a hurricane
Fast as a bullet straight to your brain
That woman's far too fast for you.

-- instrumental interlude with clarinet solo --

That woman, she aint no good for you
No, that woman, she's just no good for you
- What should he do then Boss?
But I gots you covered, don't have no fear
You just up and SEND HER OVER HERE!
'Cause that woman, she's no good for you.

She's no good for you
Just send her right on over, boy,
Yes sir!

- finis -

...Mongo

[meerkat]

[Jan Van Quirm]

Can just imagine Frank belting that one out

Really like that woman - repsect!

[MongoGutman]

My Big Baby was loosely based on this -



- and this is the feel I was looking for That Woman

[MongoGutman]

one for Halloween -


Beneath Black Sands

Beneath black sands, in stygian gloom
There lies a cobweb-shrouded room
Where lurks a god of wrath and spite
Who knows naught of good nor right.

His lair's an ancient prison cell
In which he's bound by curses fell
Trapped by tricks in ancient times
To pay the price for divine crimes.

Glowing fungi lights the chamber
Revealing runes that warn of danger
Drabbling madly across the walls
That tremble with his rage-filled calls.

He glowers over an obsidian altar
Upon which screamed many a daughter
Torn sobbing from their family's arms
And brought to face the ultimate harm.

Foul air's disturbed by spectral gliding
As phantoms stir yet to do his bidding
Held in thrall beyond all meaning
Giving voice to pain-filled keening.

His time, though gone, will come again:
Once more upon the Earth he'll reign
And the world will witness his cruel joys
As he makes of Man his tortured toys.

Pray you're dead before he rises
And visits you with his surprises
Pray you never see his face
And pity you then the human race.

…Mongo