Poems of Youth 1954 - 1959
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Monday, August 25, 2008
Rich Man$ $ixteen Ton$ (A parody)
RI¢H MAN$ $IXTEEN TON$
Some people say a man is made out of mud.
A rich man is made out of money he loves;
Money he loves and dollars and cents --
A wallet that’s thick and a safe that’s strong.
He loads sixteen tons of cash every day.
Sixteen tons and that ain’t hay.
Saint Peter don’t you call him,
‘Cause you all know.
You can’t take it with you,
So he won’t go!
He was born one morning when the sun shone bright,
And ev’rything he tries just seems to go right.
His pa was rich, owned many a sou.
So you knew the boy would be loaded too.
He loads sixteen tons of cash every day.
Sixteen tons and that ain’t hay.
Saint Peter don’t you call him,
‘Cause you all know.
You can’t take it with you,
So he won’t go!
Born on a morning when the sun did shine.
Picked up his wallet and walked to the mine.
Bought sixteen tons of fourteen caret gold:
He was a millionaire when ten years old.
He loads sixteen tons of cash every day.
Sixteen tons and that ain’t hay.
Saint Peter don’t you call him,
‘Cause you all know.
You can’t take it with you,
So he won’t go!
If you see him coming, don’t beg for a dime,
Because you would be just wasting your time.
His heart is a cold, coal, coal black
And the voice of conscience his one big lank.
He loads sixteen tons of cash every day.
Sixteen tons and that ain’t hay.
Saint Peter don’t you call him,
‘Cause you all know.
You can’t take it with you,
So he won’t go!
Willie Ameere's Drive
WILLIE AMEERE’S DRIVE
Hey, my friends, come over and hear
‘Bout the reckless drive of Willie Ameere.
It happened back in the year of ‘fifty-seven,
Late on a hot July night, nearing eleven.
Do you recall what happened that year?
He warned his gang, “If the police come
Here lookin’ for me sometime tonight.
Swallow your tongue and play-act dumb,
And try to confuse them until daylight.
Send one here, and another send there.
Tell them anything the traffic will bear.
Meanwhile, I’m fleeing in fear and rage
Through every countryside village
Trying to escape from the law’s long arm.”
On through the night drove Willie Ameere,
Tearing the night apart in fear and rage,
On through every countryside village
Yelling a cry of defiance edged in fear.
Noise in the darkness. Accelerator to the floor,
And a rumbling muffler that’ll echo evermore,
Then bore on that night’s wind of the past,
Through darkened streets to death at last,
He drove to sound and smoke and fire.
The people still waken and listen to hear
The hurried wheels of that harried car
And the death choked cry of Willie Ameere.
I Beg-g-g of You-u-u
I BEG-G-G OF YOU-U-U
I don’t want my head to be broken,
It’s the only one I got.
Darlin’, please be careful,
I know you’ve beared a lot.
Please, don’t break my head,
I beg of you!
I don’t want my blood a-drippin’.
You know I’d hate to die,
And that’s what bound to happen
If your temper gets too high.
Darlin’, please don’t get so high,
I beg of you!
Hold my hand and promise,
You won’t make it black and blue,
Even if I know you hate me,
Hate me through and through.
Little girl, you got me miserable,
Must you shoot me too?
Please don’t take advantage
Of my bruises blue.
Darlin’, please, please don’t do,
I beg-g-g of you-u-u!
Hot Rod Richard
HOT ROD RICHARD
(To Richard A. Wilson)
Hot Rod Richard came a-roaring around the bend
In a souped-up streeter with a sleeked-down rear end.
Into the straightaway and around a curve again.
He sure does move that mess of tin.
Hot Rod Richard in his car decked and stripped-down,
Going along the road really covering ground.
Fastest wheel-riding cat in all rural Pottstown,
Riding with a loud glass pipe sound.
He is the hot rodder the coolest girls all chase,
For this cat wins in every dragging flat race.
As the hot rodding king, Richard is no disgrace;
He holds the hand with every ace.
A Teenage Girl at a Big Star Record Hop in 1957
A TEENAGE GIRL AT A BIG STAR RECORD HOP IN 1957
Listen to the guitar.
Hear the drum beat.
Elvis is real cool,
Mineo is neat!
April Love croonin’
Be-Bop Baby spins.
Ricky Nelson is there
Singin’ like he don’t care.
Really dishin’ them out,
From Treat Me Nice
And Go, Cat Go on to
Alcoholic mice.
Let’s swing to the beat.
Last record repeat.
Ev’rybody’s here
Makin’ with the big cheer.
Listen to the drumbeat.
Hear the guitar.
Everlys are really cool,
Fats is far out.
Frankenstein
FRANKENSTEIN
They said I was mad. But I’ll show them
Who’s mad. I’ll build a monster that will
Destroy the world. I’m not mad!
So, I built me a body and I installed a brain.
Then I waited for thunder, lightning and rain.
I put it on a stand and when the lightning came;
It’s Alive, Felix, it is alive! Who’s insane?
Felix didn’t like him. He beat him with a cane.
Then one day, when Felix did it just the same,
The mad monster hung him by a long heavy chain
And left him dangle there in the pouring rain.
They use to come to me and say, “Baron Frankenstein,
Pay your bills, they’ve been due a long, long time,
But they met my monster with his skin sweating slime
And they haven’t bothered me anymore about my crime.
Eeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhoooooooooooeeeeeeee!
What was that shrill, horrid scream? Let me go see.
They’ve killed my deathless monster and hung him in a tree!
But who could have done it, who could have defeated me?
Why, it’s the U. S. Army and General Elvis Presley!
Stranger
STRANGER
They whispered there’s a stranger
And he’s riding toward town.
They wondered where’d he come from
And why’s he coming ‘round?
Was he a criminal
Wanted by the law?
What was his name?
Was he fast on the draw?
Would he run if
Someone called his bluff?
Or wouldn’t poker-faced words
Be sufficient enough?
Where had he come from?
What would he do?
Everybody wondered –
No body knew.
He rode a large horse,
Both palely white.They stood out clearly
Riding at night.
Could he be bested?
How was his hook?
Everybody watched him.
Everybody shook.
He settled himself into
The Long Horned Cattle Hotel
And for a goodly moment
Ev’rything went pretty well,
But one chill autumn day
Ed Black came along
And said by sundown
The stranger had best be gone.
He didn’t run,
So they squared off in the street,
And right after the battle
They buried Ed Black deep.
The stranger rode away
Without a scratch,
And we knew who he was:
One no one could match.
But Instead of Jazz...
BUT INSTEAD OF JAZZ…
Just the other day or so, I went wrong.
Tuned the radio to hear a jazz song.
But all I got, beside the news, was a nursery sing.
Instead of jazz, I got a nursery sing.
Yes, Instead of jazz, I heard this tune
Prancing through my living room.
Mary had a little lamb,
Little lamb, little lamb…
Damn!
I thought I would be smart and change the dial,
And so I did, but in a little while:
Yes, all I got, beside the news, was a nursery sing.
Instead of jazz, I got a nursery sing.
Jinglely verses were all they would play.
Come on, man, just go away!
A tisket, a tasket.
A green and yellow basket…
Blast it!
The rest of the day those records did spin,
Until my aching brain began to swim,
For all I got, beside the news, was a nursery sing.
Instead of jazz, I got a nursery sing,
Though I got the Farmer in the Dell,
I didn’t feel very well.
Farmer in the Dell,
Farmer in the dell…
Hell!
Then I got mad at a bridge falling down.
I threw the radio right to the ground,
But all I got, beside the news, was a nursery sing.
Instead of jazz, I got a nursery sing.
It did not smash and it did not break.
It was more than I could take!
London Bridge is falling down,
Falling down, falling down…
My fair lady!
Paul Anka
PAUL ANKA
All we teenagers wanna thanka
You, songwriter Paul Anka,
For writing songs that sound dumb
With stupid tunes that we can hum.
And you make the young girls all sigh
When you warble: “Yi yi yi”.
Sure all the adults blanch and gag
Every time you start to brag
You got a girl you really love,
Who comes from Heaven up above.
As for me, I think you would be great
Outside these United States.
Maybe Canada is a little sick,
If that’s where you learned music.
I don’t want to hear you holler
About a leg on your shoulder.
Pennsylvania
PENNSYLVANIA
I’d like to go back to the home I adore in Pennsylvania.
I’d like to go back and to roam no more from Pennsylvania.
I just would like to see once more
The rolling hills covered with snow
In mid-December when the winter winds
Begin to blow in Pennsylvania,
And bright little streams and creeks
Where ice forms over the waterfall.
I hear the water’s rush and the wind’s hush
Give out a winter call in Pennsylvania.
In Pennsylvania, where the fog rolls in,
Where the sales taxes grow.
Fall may see the leaves drop.
Winter sees the falling snow,
Then spring follows springing
And summer sneaks in knowin’
That the sales tax keeps growin’
In Pennsylvania.
My home!
Walking, Talking Sack Dress
WALKING, TALKING SACK DRESS
To Peggy
I was walking one night a year ago,
Walking down a shady lane
Through the snow.
When I heard something in the brush ahead.
The rustling it made almost scared me dead.
I went closer to it,
Trying to see.
When something jumped out
And headed for me.
It was the worse sight and you know the rest.
It was a walking, talking sack dress!
Oh, is it a monster?
Or is it a disease?
It was a walking,
Talking chemise!
Random Ideas Concerning Certain Pages in my Grammar
RANDOM IDEAS CONCERNING CERTAIN PAGES IN MY GRAMMAR
He dived as quick as a flash
And made a big splash
And went to the bottom.
We threw a warning glance
For he did not advance
To the top from the bottom.
Please
PLEASE
There’s only one thing I wanted out of life”
A little woman to be my loving wife
And a few good children playing around me.
I guess I’ll never see an answer to my dream.
No matter how simple it might seem
I can’t find any decent love songs.
While I was sitting on the couch with my love,
Watching Cupid shoot his arrows from above,
I turned the radio on for some mood music.
And now I’m mad at the radio.
What am I gonna do?
All I get outta you is:
‘Ou ee, ou ahh ahh, ting tang…
Shut up and keep swimming…’
But no singing.
I make a plea to those who write songs.
Can’t you please stop doing lovers wrong?
Please write us a beautiful ballad.
I don’t think I can stand much more.
My baby and me are getting sore
From this tasteless musical salad.
Yakety yak!
Splish splash!
I am becoming a monster, I’m
Just like the teenage caveman.
A Cup of Tea
A CUP OF TEA
We were walking through the jungle the other day
When we spied something standing in our way.
There stood the meanest Japanese we ever did seen
And an English gentleman, a jolly old bean.
Japanese: “You burld blidge ovah my liver Kwai.”
Englishman: “Eh, what? Oh, I say ol’ chop, I
Shall nevah build a bloody bridge
Over your blimy rivah!”
Japanese: “Ah, so? You no no burld blidge
Ovah my liver? Kwai not?”
Englishman: “Because it’s time to ‘ave a cup o’ tea.”
We’re walking through the jungle a year ago,
Goin’ through the jungle and progress was slow.
We looked out through the bushes and what did we see?
Ohh! Ou ou ou ou ou ou ou ou-ou-ou-eeee!
There was a flying saucer sitting there
And little green men running everywhere.
We did not know what to do, except to turn around,
But much to our own surprise they had us surround.
Saucerman: “’Ay, there, ol’ chips, ‘ave a cup o’ tea?”
We walked through the jungle with those outer space cats.
They were educated, and that was that.
I do not know where they ever got that hip language,
But it sounded like they came from Oxford College.
Saucerman: “Are you sure you won’t ‘ave a spot o’ tea?’
We got in the space ship and we took right off.
We were flying around in the flying sauce
And heading for the moon and Explorer Two,
When one of them said to my good friend, “You…
…Must ‘ave a spot o’ tea.
‘Tis good, you’ll see.
We came from outer space,
Got educated in that Oxford place.”
If ever you’re walking through the jungle and you come upon a scene
Where a Japanese fellow is talking with a soldier of the queen
About a bridge to be built over a river,
Look around for a little green sliver
Of men who speak with something like an Oxford accent
And offer you their tea for not a single cent,
Then say:
“Look, my man, we’ll take some
Of your tea, if you’ll build
His bloody bridge across the
Blimy river. We’re going to
Blow it up, you know.
Hot Rod
HOT ROD
To Henry Gregor Felsen
Thunder sounding in the wind,
Sirens ringing in his brain,
He had to beat the police
And he had to beat the train.
He had made a little bet
What time he’d get to Trenton
And it certainly did look like
Fate had covered his bettin’.
But they told him not to go.
Ev’rybody told him stay home.
Yet he had to make the run,
He was just compelled to zoom.
So, he had to beat the time
And he had to win the race
For he had called his own shot,
Now he had to save his face.
His friends had tried his tricks.
They sped through Iowa nights,
Until they met the driver
Who had turned off his headlights.
With a sheet over their faces,
They lay in a silent row.
His friends ripped in quick death
On a road in Iowa.
Hot Rod, Hot Rod,
I’m going to slow it down.
Hot Rod, Hot Rod,
Lay them on a blood soaked ground.
Spider and Fly
SPIDER AND FLY
There was a fly.
There was a spider that built a web light and fine
And he withdrew to take a nap.
If the fly came a little closer, he would soon have his dinner,
While the fly would grow a little thinner.
But the fly didn’t come close to the web
And the spider caught no meal in his trap.
One day the fly,
When the web was wet,
Flew into its sticky lines
And woke the spider up from his nap.
Now there is no fly
And no more her humming-buzzing cry.
Remember what happens near the spider web
And don’t ever be the meal in his trap.
Wither Wonderland
WITHER WONDERLAND
Wind is blowin’,
Hear it hissing.In the land,
Snow is glistening.
Oh, what a plight,
I’ll be blue tonight
From walking in a winter wonderland.
Broken down in the blue car.
Here to stay is a new scar.
My feet are gray,
Near froze away.
From walking in a winter wonderland.
In the meadow,
You may find a snowman.
Brush it off,
It could be me.
With this snow so heavy
I can’t hardly see.
Later on, I’ll expire –
Fall into the briar.
I’ll lie there in pain.
My body will be maimed
From walking in a winter wonderland.
Two Short Poems On School
TWO SHORT POEMS ON SCHOOL
SCHOOL IS A PAIN IN THE NECK
School is a pain in the neck.
It makes me a total wreck.
With health and English and gee,
Those other types of debris,
School is a pain in the neck.
A LESSON IS A MESS, SON
Literature, it is a bore.
Geometry, it’s misery.
History, I just can’t see.
School
Ain’t cool.
A Regret
A REGRET
I regret I cannot be free
From what in school were good morals.
I regret it’s not the way to be
When you are in love with girls.
It isn’t really true that the girl respects a guy
Who doesn’t steal a kiss right after the first date.
It isn’t best to act shy. There is no truth to this.
Not any of these things is true.
They are just plain silly,
Superstitious willy-nilly.
It is, oh, so much more fun
To try and steal just one on that very first date.
But wait, how am I to know?
I have never tried it.
My conscience ordered “No!”
Why, when I first see one, then I can’t even say”
“Hello, how do you do?”
Without first having someone to introduce
Her properly to me.
I remember our old guidance class and prune-faced old
Mrs. Snodgrass. I can still see that face. Her lips
Without a trace of ever smiling, her with a ruler in
Her hand, her repeating to the class every rule of
Etiquette. Now when I am old enough to go on dates,
I am absolutely as a loss as to what it is I might do.
On my first date I wanted to kiss her.
This is strictly taboo.
Yes, I know,
It must be positively ‘no, sir!”
But all I can conclude
After time and time again:
I should just take a kiss.
I’m sure Rock Hudson would.
First, or not, he’d persist
To kiss and kiss and this
Is very wrong, yes wrong.”
I don’t care the least bit
If it’s right or it’s wrong.
It’s better than to sit and be bored to death.
It is quite scar making
Having to do the asking,
Like I was taught in school.
And I regret it.
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