Long To beat the band Poems
Long To beat the band Poems. Below are the most popular long To beat the band by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long To beat the band poems by poem length and keyword.
I'd rather be a hillbillie
than a bybillie or blowbillie
to try to be all three, you see
would drive me to insanity.
Hillbillies are fun and fancy free
can run as far as you can see
may be poor, ain’t got no teeth
but that don’t bother’m in the least!
Bybillies are skittishy and shy
seldom stay, always say "goodbye"
they never joke, don't even try
just mumble, complain, whine and cry.
Blowbillies are too puffed up
have big mouths, can’t keep them shut
boast and brag, often disrupt
full of hot air, they up look quite stuffed!
I’d rather be a hillbillie
than a bybillie or blowbillie
and climb the hills and know the land
and laugh and hunt “to beat the band”.
Hillbillies love to dance and sing
know how to play the fiddle and swing
and love to roam the fields in spring
I'd rather be a hillbillie more than anything!
l
Beautiful, yet so utterly vile!
Congress shut down, hiding, plotting.
The destruction of this country and its President.
Under the glitzy costume of a Virus you came.
Unabashedly shredding the Bill of Rights.
Joyfully, slamming churches and synagogues tight.
You vampires on the Hill~
Destroying the Republic, the lives of its people.
To the great god, Socialism, you plan a building
with a shining gold steeple.
We cannot shake someone's hand?
Yet you unabashedly, tax us cruelly to beat the band!
Some of us not your slaves, not now nor ever will
be.
While you track our movements and words with
unconstitutional, unlawful glee.
April 12, 2020
10pm PST
A touchy subject to say the least
Have certain thoughts of my own
Still no matter what anyone thinks
How's about we leave reincarnation alone
Once is enough for this old guy
A real touchy subject for sure
Retracing my crazy teenage years
Wouldn't want again to again endure
What about my very first job interview
Sweating to beat the band
First, middle, and even my last name
Scribbled on the back of my hand
No thanks, once is definitely enough
But if I could just change a couple of things
Marry a sweet young Hollywood starlet
And be able to act and sing
Okay, maybe I'll change my mind
I'm now all for reincarnation
If I had the chance to choose who I am
Love to be a great singing sensation
A touchy subject to say the least
Have certain thoughts of my own
Still no matter what anyone thinks
How's about we leave this subject alone
© Jack Ellison 2014
Think my jollies are starting to return
Told you they wouldn't stay away long
Not those kind of jollies, naughty people
Thought you might get me wrong
You people, you really should be ashamed
What kind of dude d'ya think I am
I'm quite respectable and live a clean life
But in reality it's all just a scam
At times I'll be hanging from the rafters
Overcome by these jollies I enjoy
Dribbling and drooling to beat the band
Talk about jollies, ooooh boy!
Must be careful at this extreme old age
Not as agile as I once used to be
So if you hear a bulletin on the news
Man falls from rafters it's me!
Marvelous Minnie had a hissy fit and threw her lamp down the stairs.
It hit an elf, a gargoyle, and four children dressed as Goldilocks and the Bears.
They ran up to see what was going on in the Witch’s crazy old mind.
I am sorry, she said. I did not think ahead, this was truly unkind.
And so they forgave her, but the next thing she decided to do….
Was to throw stuff out the window, and a couch landed on two.
They were shrieking and screaming and wailing to beat the band.
I don’t even care, she said. I thought their motives were underhand.
Come on! Her Auntie Feefife said. Give them a break, they turned into curd.
Transmogrify them into something else please, their squawking is rather absurd.
Think the jollies are starting to return
Told you I wouldn't stay down long
Not those kind of jollies, you naughty people
Thought you might get me wrong
You people, you really should be ashamed
What kind of dude d'ya think I am
I'm quite respectable and live a clean life
But in reality it's all just a scam
Sometimes I'll be hanging from the chandelier
Overcome be these jollies I enjoy
Dribbling and drooling to beat the band
Talk about jollies, ooooh boy!
Must be careful at this extremely old age
Not as agile as I once used to be
So if you happen to hear a bulletin on CNN
Man falls from chandelier, it's me!
I worked in a bowlin' place settin' pins,
Tryin' not to let a ball break my shins!
In those days of yore, pins were set by hand,
And you had to hustle to beat the band!
I was around fourteen when I was hired,
And was around fourteen when I was fired!
The boss man paid me fifty cents per hour,
'Til one night our relationship went sour!
I advised him where he could stuff the job!
Said he, "Find another line of work, Bob!"
Couldn't face workin' there 'til I retired.
Found work pumpin' gas when I was rehired!
8 November 2014 - Entry for Sara Hendrick's "Jobs" Contest
The cloak closet was fairly clean
A brief dust would do it
Then pouring rain set in two days
Leaving white walls unfit
Now the closet isn't sparkling clean
From those down stream's dribbles
On the clean outside all looks well
Inside black ink scribbles
A hard untidy job ahead
Removing the contents
A stinky, stressful employment
Arduousness presents
All purpose cleaner in strong hands
Spray, scrub to beat the band
Unsuccessful accomplishment
Step back, look, the job scanned
Momma said soap and water cleaned
Anything but the soul
But when cleaning problem items
Doubt settles, loose control
Then within my spirit a voice
Bubbles a joyful toll
Just say a prayer for cleansing
And He will make one whole
Finis'
A touchy subject to say the least
Have certain thoughts of my own
Still no matter what anyone thinks
How's about we leave reincarnation alone
Once is enough for this old guy
A touchy subject for sure
Retracing my crazy teenage years
Wouldn't want those again to endure
What about my very first job interview
Sweating to beat the band
First, middle, and even my last name
Scribbled on the back of my hand
No thanks, once is surely enough
But if I could just change a couple of things
Marry a sweet young Hollywood starlet
And be able to act and sing
Okay, maybe I'll change my mind
I'm now all for reincarnation
If I had the chance to choose who I am
Love to be a great singing sensation
A touchy subject to say the least
Have certain thoughts of my own
Still no matter what anyone thinks
How's about we leave this subject alone
(On May 1 1960, at the very depth of the
Cold War, CIA pilot Gary Powers was shot
down over the central USSR. Here we are
imagining his conversation with a charge
d'affaires of the US Embassy. Powers
is threatening to go public on CIA
mismanagement and to tell all to the
Russians - the Igors and the Borises.
Powers died soon afterwards in a
helicopter crash.)
What's Thompson's game? He's sent a charge here?
He should have come himself. So, Mister Jinks,
I'm going to assume you're with the firm.
Tell you what happened? Why don't you tell me?
Okay, I didn't trash the Thunderbird -
but I was kinda busy, get my drift?
My face was pulling g's to beat the band
and if you knew the vehicle, you'd know
the seat ejects like bats fly outta hell -
explosive bolts. I'm falling vertically,
and spinning like a top, and if I get
alignments wrong by half an inch,
the console cuts my legs off when I spring.
So what? So this. I had things on my mind.
You want your secrets kept? So train us right.
Foresee contingencies.
The silver buck?
I chucked it. Threw it, as the chute came down,
but kept the pin. The Igors have it now.
Well fella, you got questions and to spare,
and I don't like the way they're shaping up.
Oh sure, you got your job to do. Me too,
remember? I'm the guy who got his ass
shot out the sky at sixty thousand feet!
I didn't buy the farm. Is that a sin?
Tell Langley I'm an Amish - what the hell?
I told them it's curare.
Get real, pal!
They may be Borises, but I won't have
some guy get stiffed because he pricked his thumb.
They'd find out anyhow. You bet I have!
I got more beefs than Texas. Pin 'em back.
Nobody thought it through, this turkey-shoot,
or what we'd do, dumb Joes like little ol' me
when Igor got us. Unprofessional!
Now bust your ass, and get me outta here.
When I get back, I'm gonna tell the world
how Langley hangs its fly-guys out to dry.
We got a First Amendment. Let 'em try!