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No, the serpent did not
Seduce Eve to the apple.
All that’s simply
Corruption of the facts.Adam ate the apple.
Eve ate Adam.
The serpent ate Eve.
This is the dark intestine.The serpent, meanwhile,
Sleeps his meal off in Paradise –
Smiling to hear
God’s querulous calling.Ted Hughes
When A. and R. men hit the street
To sign up every second band they meet
Then marketing men will spill out spiel
About how us Glesca folk are really real
(Where once they used to fear and pity
These days they glamorise and patronise our city –
Accentwise once they could hear bugger all
That was not low, glottal or guttaral,
Now we’ve ‘kudos’ incident’ly
And the patter’s street-smart, strictly state-of-the-art,
And our oaths are user-friendly).It’s all go the sandblaster, it’s all go Tutti Frutti,
All we want is a wally close with Rennie Mackintosh putti.Malkie Machismo invented a gismo for making whisky oot o’girders
He tasted it, came back for mair, and soon he was on his thirders.
Rabbie Burns turned in his grave and dunted Hugh MacDiarmid,
Said: It’s oor National Thorn, John Barleycorn, but I doot we’ll ever learn it…It’s all go the Rotary Club, its ail go ‘The Toast Tae The Lassies’,
It’s all go Holy Willie’s Prayer and plunging your dirk in the haggis.Robbie Coltrane flew Caledonian MacBrayne
To Lewis…..on a Sunday !
Protesting Wee Frees fed him antifreeze
(Why God knows) till he was comatose
And didnae wake up till the Monday.Aye it’s Retro Time for Northern Soul and the whoop and the skirl o’ the saxes.
All they’ll score’s more groundglass heroin and venison filofaxes.
The rent-boys preen on Buchanan Street, their boas are made of vulture,
It’s all go the January sales in the Metropolis of Culture.It’s all go the PR campaign and a radical change of image –
Write Saatchi and Saatchi a blank cheque to pay them for the damage.Tam o’Shanter fell asleep
To the sound of fairy laughter
Woke up on the cold-heather hillside
To find it was ten years after
And it’s all go (again) the Devolution Debate and pro…pro…proportional representation.
Over pasta and pesto in a Byres Road bistro, Scotland declares hersel’ a nation.Margo McDonald spruced up her spouse for thon Govan By-Election
The voters they selectic him in a sideways left defection,
The Labour man was awfy hurt, he’d dependit on the X-fillers
And the so-and-sos had betrayed him for thirty pieces of Sillars !Once it was no go the SNP, they were sneered at as ‘Tory’ and tartan
And thought to be very little to do with the price of Spam in Dumbarton.
Now it’s all go the Nationalists, the toast of the folk and the famous
– Of Billy Connolly, Muriel Gray and the Auchtermuchty Proclaimers.It’s all go L.A. lager, it’s all go the campaign for an Assembly,
It’s all go Suas Alba and winning ten-nil at Wembley.
Are there separatist dreams in the glens and the schemes ?
Well…..it doesny take Taggart to detect it !
Or to jalouse we hate the Government
And we patently didnae elect it.
So – watch out Margaret Thatcher, and tak’ tent Neil Kinnock
Or we’ll tak’ the United Kingdom and brekk it like a bannock.Liz Lochhead
(this one keeps a promise to Cath56 xx)
By sloth on sorrow fathered
These dusty-featured Lollocks
Have their nativity in all disordered
Backs of cupboard drawers.They play hide and seek
Among collars and novels
And empty medicine bottles,
And letters from abroad
That never will be answered.Every sultry night
They plague little children,
Gurgling from the cistern,
Humming from the air,
Skewing up the bed-clothes,
Twitching the blind.When the imbecile aged
Are over-long in dying
And the nurse drowses,
Lollocks come skipping
Up the tattered stairs
And are nasty together
In the bed’s shadow.The signs of their presence
Are boils on the neck,
Dreams of vexation suddenly recalled
In the middle of the morning,
Languor after food.Men cannot see them,
Men cannot hear them,
Do not believe in them –
But suffer the more,
Both in neck and belly.Women can see them –
O those naughty wives
Who sit by the fireside
Munching bread and honey,
Watching them in mischief
From corners of their eyes,
Slily allowing them to lick
Honey-sticky fingers.Sovereign against Lollocks
Are hard broom and soft broom,
To well comb the hair,
To well brush the shoe,
And to pay every debt
So soon as it’s due.Robert Graves
It’s such a little thing to weep –
So short a thing to sigh –
And yet – by Trades – the size of these
We men and women die !Emily Dickinson
Most near, most dear, most loved and most far,
Under the window where I often found her
Sitting as huge as Asia, seismic with laughter,
Gin and chicken helpless in her Irish hand,
Irresistible as Rabelais, but most tender for
The lame dogs and hurt birds that surround her,-
She is a procession no one can follow after
But be like a little dog following a brass band.She will not glance up at the bomber, or condescend
To drop her gin and scuttle to the cellar,
But lean on the mahogany table like a mountain
Whom only faith can move, and so I send
O all my faith and all my love to tell her
That she will move from mourning into morning.George Barker
go for it Sharon and chuck ’em on to the other thread….minim’s DIY one.
I’m sure you’ll be paid with compliments and some very caring facial expressions.
xBagpipe Music
It’s no go the merrygoround, it’s no go the rickshaw,
All we want is a limousine and a ticket for the peepshow.
Their knickers are made of crepe-de-chine, their shoes are made of python.
Their halls are lined with tiger rugs and their walls with heads of bison.John MacDonald found a corpse, put it under the sofa,
Waited till it came to life and hit it with a poker,
Sold its eyes for souvenirs, sold its blood for whiskey,
Kept its bones for dumb-bells to use when he was fifty.It’s no go the Yogi-Man, it’s no go Blavatsky,
All we want is a bank balance and a bit of skirt in a taxi.Annie MacDougall went to milk, caught her foot in the heather,
Woke to hear a dance record playing of Old Vienna.
It’s no go your maidenheads, it’s no go your culture,
All we want is a Dunlop tyre and the devil mend the puncture.The Laird o’ Phelps spent Hogmanay declaring he was sober,
Counted his feet to prove the fact and found he had one foot over.
Mrs Carmichael had her fifth, looked at the job with repulsion,
Said to the midwife ‘Take it away; I’m through with over-production’It’s no go the gossip column, it’s no go the Ceilidh,
All we want is a mother’s help and a sugar-stick for the baby.Willie Murray cut his thumb, couldn’t count the damage,
Took the hide of an Ayrshire cow and used it for a bandage.
His brother caught three hundred cran when the seas were lavish,
Threw the bleeders back in the sea and went upon the parish.It’s no go the Herring Board, it’s no go the Bible,
All we want is a packet of fags when our hands are idle.It’s no go the picture palace, it’s no go the stadium,
It’s no go the country cot with a pot of pink geraniums.
It’s no go the Government grants, it’s no go the elections,
Sit on your ar/se for fifty years and hang your hat on a pension.It’s no go my honey love, it’s no go my poppet:
Work your hands from day to day, the winds will blow the profit.
The glass is falling hour by hour, the glass will fall for ever,
But if you break the bloody glass you won’t hold up the weather.Louis Macneice
must be reading cos me lips are moving + everyfink………..
well where did this one spring alive from ?
they all called d v d ‘s now innit………..
yeah !!!
(let it not be said that he made no contribution…….)
rising oil prices / global warming / 3rd world nuclear powers……………..its them damn foxes scurrying about in our hedges innit !! …..so glad i’m on the pulse here……yeah lets invade the house of commons + change democracy !!
“now come on what are the effects of the French Revolution” ………….. answer circa 2008 – ” one can’t say sir it’s really far too early to tell”
ffs get real
