Hey! Ya’ll are doing a good job upping your post counts.
Keep up the good work. 
I LIKE CHINESE
The world today seems absolutely
crackers,
With nucler bombs to blow us all
sky high.
There are fools and idiots sitting
on the trigger,
It’s depressing and it’s senseless
and that’s why…
I like Chinese,
I like Chinese,
They only come up to your knees,
Yet they’re always friendly, and
they’re ready to please.
I like Chinese,
I like Chinese,
There’s nine hundred million of
them in the world today,
You’d better learn to like them,
that’s what I say.
I like Chinese,
I like Chinese,
They come from a long way
ocerseas,
But they’re cute and they’re
cuddly, and they’re ready to please.
I like Chinese food,
The waiters never are rude,
Think of the many things they’ve
done to impress,
There’s Maosim, Taoism, I Ching
and Chess.
So I like Chinese,
I like Chinese,
I like their tiny little trees,
Their Zen, their ping-pong, their
ying and yang-ese.
I like Chinese thought,
The wisdom that Confucious
taught,
If Darwin is anything to
shout about,
The Chinese will survive us all
without any doubt.
So I like Chinese,
I like Chinese,
They only come up to your knees,
Yet they’re wise and they’re witty,
and they’re ready to please.
(verse in Chinese)
I like Chinese,
I like Chinese,
Their food is guarunteed to please,
A fourteen, a seven, a nine
and lychees.
I like Chinese,
I like Chinese,
I like their tiny little trees,
Their Zen, their ping-pong, their
ying and yang-ese
I like Chinese,
I like Chinese…
That last one was for Alex.
Thanks Silo, why exactly am I cool? (not that I’m complaining)
Hey Quixotica, that was quite amusing. Although I do like the Monty Python one better.
Im a lumberjack and I’m ok
I sleep all night and I work all day
I cut down trees, I eat my lunch
I go to the lav-a-try
I Wednesdays I go shopping
And have buttered scones for tea.
Im a lumberjack…
I cut down trees, I skip and jump
I like to press wild flowers
I put on women’s clothing and hang around in bars
I’m a lumberjack…
I cut down trees, I wear high heels,
Suspenders and a bra
I wish I’d been a girlie, just like my dear Papa
Oh, I though you were so RUGGED
That ‘detachable penis’ bit is a song from an old punk group called Kings X. Just in case someone was wondering…
I looked to see which ones had been posted, and I totally missed the whole big lumberjack one. :o
I’ll make up for it here:
Attend the tale of Sweeney Todd,
His skin was pale and his eye was odd.
He shaved the faces of gentle men,
Who never thereafter were heard of again.
He trod a path that few have trod,
Did Sweeney Todd…
The Demon Barber of Fleet Street.
He kept a shop in London Town,
Of fancy clients and good renound.
And what if none of their souls were saved,
They went to their maker impeccably shaved.
By Sweeney,
By Sweeney Todd…
The Demon Barber of Fleet Street.
His needs were few, his room was bare,
A barber pole and a fancy chair.
A mug of suds and leather strop,
An apron, a towel, a pale, and a mop.
For neatness he deserves a nod,
Did Sweeney Todd…
The Demon Barber of Fleet Street.
Inconspicuos, Sweeny was.
Quick, and quiet, and clean he was.
Back of his smile, under his word,
Sweeney heard music that nobody heard.
Sweeney pondered and Sweeny planned,
Like a perfect machine he ran.
Sweeney was smooth, Sweeny was subtle,
Sweeney would blink and rats would skuttle.
(Todd)
Attend the tale of Sweeney Todd,
He served a dark and avengeful god.
What happened then, well thats the play,
And he wouldn’t want us to give it away.
Not Sweeney,
Not Sweeney Todd…
The Demon Barber of Fleet Street.
Based on the last post you read.
He’s a lumberjack
Cuts down trees all of the day
and he is OK
Hey I know it’s lame
Can you do better
this makes 66, only 600 to go till …
Hey I know it’s lame
can you do any better
well, can you, CAN YOU
67
New word fo the day:
pyronecrobestiality - the act of…never mind. It’s self explanatory.
Attend the tale of Sweeney Todd,
His skin was pale and his eye was odd.
He shaved the faces of gentle men,
Who never thereafter were heard of again.
He trod a path that few have trod,
Did Sweeney Todd,
The Demon Barber of Fleet Street.
He kept a shop in London Town,
Of fancy clients and good renound.
And what if none of their souls were saved,
They went to their maker impeccably shaved.
By Sweeney,
By Sweeney Todd…
The Demon Barber of Fleet Street.
Swing your razor wide Sweeney,
Hold it to the skies.
Freely flows the blood of those who moralize.
His needs are few, his room is bare,
He hardly uses his fancy chair.
The more he kills, the more he lives,
He never forgets and he never forgives.
Perhaps today you have given an odd
To Sweeney Todd…
The Demon Barber of Fleet Street.
Sweeney wishes the world away,
Sweeney’s weeping for yesterday.
Hogging the blame, waiting the years,
Hearing the music that nobody hears.
Sweeney waits on the parlor walls.
Sweeny hangs on the office wall.
Woken up, Knocking in sight,
Isn’t that Sweeny there beside you?
(FANFARE)
(Todd)
Attend the tale of Sweeney Todd,
He served a dark and hungry god.
To seek revenge may lead to hell…
But everyone does it if seldom as well.
A Sweeney,
A Sweeney Todd…
THE DEMON BARBER OF
FLEET
STREET!
BRIAN SONG
Brian…the babe they
called Brian
Grew…grew, grew, and grew,
grew up to be,
grew up to be,
A boy called Brian
A boy called Brian.
He had arms and legs and hands
and feet
This boy whose name was Brian
And he grew, grew, grew, and grew
Grew up to be
Yes he grew up to be
A teenager called Brian
A teenager called Brian.
And his face became spotty
Yes his face became spotty
And his voice dropped down low
And things started to grow
On young Brian and so
He was certainly no
No girl named Brian
Not a girl named Brian.
And he started to shave
And have one off the wrist
And want to see girls
And go out and get pissed
A man called Brian
This man called Brian
The man they called Brian
This man called Brian.
Okay, who has my lighter?
Here ya go Tasha, now you can get past the first line.
BRUCE’S PHILOSOPHERS SONG
Immanuel Kant was a real pissant
Who was very rarely stable,
Heidegger, Heidegger was a
boozy beggar
Who could think you under
the table
David Hume could out-consume
Wilhelm Freidrich Hegel.
And Wittgenstein was a
beery swine
Who was just as schloshed
as Schegel.
There’s nothing Nietzche couldn’t
teach ya
'Bout the raising of the wrist
Socrates, himself, was
permanantely pissed.
John Stuart Mill, of his own
free will,
On half a pint of shandy was
particularly ill.
Plato, they say, could stick it away,
Half a crate of whisky every day.
Aristotle, Aristotle was a bugger
for the bottle
Hobbes was find of his dram.
And Rene descartes was a
drunken fart,
“I drink, therefore I am.”
Yes Socrates, himself, is
particularly missed,
A lovely little thinker,
But a bugger when he’s pissed.
Oh Jessica, now I need to print that out and give it to Mrs. Ackerman so she can use it in history class.
I miss Alex. I haven’t gotten a real hug in a couple weeks. Or play for that matter. I swear, if I could, I’d find where kilt boy works and get a ride down there and um, well, that’s none of your business.
We should both give it to her. After all, i typed it. Teehee, we are gonna drive her crazy! Yay!
I miss Alex too. But I miss the huggable god of fuzziness more. And I kind of miss Bling Bling (but not that much). I don’t want to go back to school. I should read Huck Finn sometime.
And you’re right, I don’t want to know what you and kilt boy do in your free time.
OK, time for another song.
ALL THINGS DULL AND UGLY
All things dull and ugly,
All creatures short and squat,
All things rude and nasty,
The lord god made the lot.
Each little snake that poisons,
Each little was that stings,
He made their brutish venom,
He made their horrid wings.
All things sick and cancerous,
All evil great and small,
All things foul and dangerous,
The lord god made them all.
Each nasty little hornet,
Each beastly little squid,
Who made the spikey urchin,
Who made the sharks, he did.
All things scabbed and ulcerous,
All pox both great and small,
Putrid, foul, and gangrenous,
The lord god made them all.
AMEN
Now you guys keep this thread alive while I’m on vacation.
I just realized that I’m getting close to 1000 posts. Cool!
Ok, I’m here, but do I really want a fat post count?
What the hell, give this thread another toss.
What’s the harm in a big count?