-=Dark_Angel=-, P.I.
on I don't wanna be me by AskittlesK
26 Feb 2004, 4:56 AM
There's already a shit Type 0 Negative song called this. I suggest you cram a piano into your mouth and then punch a beehive.
Have you thought of setting this to music and having Rick Walla sing it?
Superb.
I got 99 problems but a bitch ain't one.
http://www.poemranker.com/poem-details.jsp?id=91677.
And don't let me catch you sleeping in class again!!!1
You've but to spread his mantle wide,
'Twill serve wherein through colin ride;
No heavy coilings need ye take,
When your bold excursion make;
A little gas, he'll soon prepare,
Forcing out, aloft through air,
Moisture laden, it shall swiftly steer.
I wish you joy of your new career.
If but a friendly hint be thrown,
Tis easier then to feel one's way.
I'm weary of this dry pedantic tone,
And must again the genuine Devil play.
Yet, ripening from within,
The kernal brown swells fast ;
It seeks the air to win,
Its seeks the sun at last.
With joy it bursts its thrall,
The shell must needs give way ;
Tis thus your coilings fall
Before thy feet, each day.
-=Dark_Angel=-, P.I.
replying on Good King Brownceslas by -=Dark_Angel=-, P.I.
25 Feb 2004, 12:17 PM
Yes! You should post another version of this poeme - its mathematical dual, if you will - describing the opposite affliction: constipation. Togeth'r, the two would become more pow'rful than you could possibly imagine, boldly encompassing the complete browne spectrum in a single, terrifying wipe.
-=Dark_Angel=-, P.I.
replying on Good King Brownceslas by -=Dark_Angel=-, P.I.
25 Feb 2004, 12:15 PM
Yes! You should post another version of this poeme - it's mathematical dual - describing the opposite affliction: constipation. Togeth'r, the two would become more pow'rful than you could possibly imagine, boldly encompassing the entire browne spectrum in a single, terrifying wipe.
"Sire," quoth page with wrinkl'd brow
And cheek all alabaster,
"My flow is dam'd, I know not how,
But fear it spells disaster!"
"Calm ye," said the goodly lord,
"Tho ye be strain'd and swollen,"
And fisted him until cack pour'd
From his distended co-o-lon.
-=Dark_Angel=-, P.I.
replying on Good King Brownceslas by -=Dark_Angel=-, P.I.
25 Feb 2004, 11:36 AM
Alternate verse 3:
Summoned he all mann'r of priest,
But their holy tinctures
Ne'er could make the leaking cease,
Though they sooth'd his sphincter.
Balming ev'ry crack with myrrh
'hind his back they linger'd
Laughing at their King's demur:
"I will not be fi-ing-ger'd!"
That's ridiculous. A strumpet apostrophe.
The best rhyming on this site ever! Horizon/wisened, hardened/pardened (sic), tincture/sphincter, sure/ordure - gems all. And a worthy lesson to CLS and her ilk, if they weren't too stupid to recognise it.
Thank you for including the link to the tune - I was struggling to amermer it.
crap - the link is too busy; will try later.
Christmas is forever improved.
To be sung bois'trously in Church, lewdly accomp'nied by the following tune:
http://www.cyberhymnal.org/htm/g/o/goodk
jow'ls
Like I tried to say before, my dear man, I am not guilty, just belatedly telling everyone that the first stanza is not mine. And revelling in one single -10-? Please, tell me, Sir, where did I give you that expression. My jodphurs are staying firmly up with a Thomas Pink, Germyn Street, belt. (Except for some devient scullery maid, the minx!)