1,999-1/2 Funny Poems /Parodies/ Quotations

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PSOT In An Elevator

(Parody of "Love In An Elevator" By Aerosmith)

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First I went to townhall dot com (Yeah!)
Then I went to NewsMax (Oh yeah!)
Some elites there were spamming (Oh no!)
What am I gonna do? (Oh no!)
The mods are all on vacation
They won’t be back till next week
I really need to show them who’s the boss
Without spamming the forums even more

Psot in an elevator
Agreeing with threads when I'm goin' down
Psot in an elevator
Agreeing with threads ‘til I hit the ground

Jack The Ripper’s in the elevator (Yeah!)
He looks kind of scary (Oh yeah!)
He said, “What’s your e-mail address” (Oh no!)
“And can I put you on my mailing lists?” (Oh no!)
I hope we don’t get stuck
I wanna make it out spam-free
I said, “I’ll just give you my fake address...”
“...and report to you to my ISP!”

Psot in an elevator
Agreeing with threads when I’m goin’ down
Psot in an elevator
I won’t stop till I hit the ground

In the air, in the air, Jack you can’t spam me, that’s not fair
Psot in an elevator
Agreeing with threads when I’m goin’ down

Psot in an elevator
Agreeing with threads when I’m goin’ down
Psot in an elevator
I won’t stop till I hit the ground

Gonna start using SpamAssassin (Yeah!)
Gonna filter out all the spam (Oh yeah!)
I'm gonna start my own forum (Rock on!)
And have me a psoting affair (Rock on!)
Gotta get my timin' right
It's a test that I gotta pass
I'll chase that dude, Jack all the way to teh stairway
And make him fall right down

Psot in an elevator
Agreeing with threads when I’m goin’ down
Psot in an elevator
I won’t stop till I hit the ground

Do you care? Do you care?
Don’t spam me one more time now it’s not fair.
Psot in an elevator
Agreeing with threads when I'm goin' down

The Scotsman, sung by eighty different people so I don't know who to credit.

Well a Scotsman clad in kilt left a bar on evening fair
And one could tell by how we walked that he drunk more than his share
He fumbled round until he could no longer keep his feet
Then he stumbled off into the grass to sleep beside the street
Ring ding diddle diddle I de oh ring di diddly I oh
He stumbled off into the grass to sleep beside the street

About that time two young and lovely girls just happend by
And one says to the other with a twinkle in her eye
See yon sleeping Scotsman so strong and handsome built
I wonder if it's true what they don't wear beneath the kilt
Ring ding diddle diddle I de oh ring di diddly I oh
I wonder if it's true what they don't wear beneath the kilt

They crept up on that sleeping Scotsman quiet as could be
Lifted up his kilt about an inch so they could see
And there behold, for them to see, beneath his Scottish skirt
Was nothing more than God had graced him with upon his birth
Ring ding diddle diddle I de oh ring di diddly I oh
Was nothing more than God had graced him with upon his birth

They marveled for a moment, then one said we must be gone
Let's leave a present for our friend, before we move along
As a gift they left a blue silk ribbon, tied into a bow
Around the bonnie star, the Scots kilt did lift and show
Ring ding diddle diddle I de oh ring di diddly I oh
Around the bonnie star, the Scots kilt did lift and show

Now the Scotsman woke to nature's call and stumbled towards a tree
Behind a bush, he lift his kilt and gawks at what he sees
And in a startled voice he says to what's before his eyes.
O lad I don't know where you been but I see you won first prize
Ring ding diddle diddle I de oh ring di diddly I oh
O lad I don't know where you been but I see you won first prize

(Not a parody of anything, but rather a satirical song from the graphic novel "V for Vendetta". It's been made into a song by David J. So, ladies and gentlemen, I give you.....)

THIS VICIOUS CABARET

Lyrics by Alan Moore.

They say that there's a broken light for every heart on Broadway.
They say that life's a game, then they take the board away.
They give you masks and costumes and an outline of the story
Then leave you all to improvise their vicious cabaret...

In no-longer-pretty cities there are fingers in kitties.
There are warrants, forms, and chitties and a jackboot on the stair.
Sex and death and human grime, in monochrome, for one thin dime,
But at least the trains all run on time but they don't go anywhere.

Facing their Responsibilities either on their backs or on their knees
There are ladies who just simply freeze and dare not turn away
And the widows who refuse to cry will be dressed in garter and bow-tie
And be taught to kick their legs up high in this vicious cabaret.

At last! The 1998 Show!
The ballet on the burning stage.
The documentary seen
Upon the fractured screen
The dreadful poem scrawled upon the crumpled page...

There's a policeman with an honest soul that has seen whose head is on the pole
And he grunts and fills his briar bowl with a feeling of unease.
But he briskly frisks the torn remains for a fingerprint or crimson stains
And endevours to ignore the chains that he walks in to his knees.

While his master in the dark nearby inspects the hands, with a brutal eye,
That have never brushed a lover's thigh but have squeezed a nation's threat.
But he hungers in his secret dreams for the harsh embrace of cruel machines
But his lover is not what she seems and she will not leave a note.

At last! The 1998 Show!
The Situation Tragedy
Grand Opera slick with soap
Cliffhangers with no hope
The water-colour in the flooded gallery...

There's a girl who'll push but not shove and is desperate for her father's love
She believes the hand beneath the glove maybe one she needs to hold.
Though she doubts her hosts moralities she decides she is more at ease
In the Land Of Doing What You Please than outside in the cold.

But the backdrop's peel and the sets give way and the cast gets eaten by the play
There's a murderer at the Matinee, there are dead men in the aisles
And the patrons and actors too are uncertain if the show is through
And with side-long looks await their cue but the frozen mask just smiles.

At last! The 1998 Show!
The torch-song no one ever sings
The curfew chorus line
The comedy divine
The bulging eyes of puppets strangled by their strings

There's thrills and chills and girls galore, sing-songs and surprises
There's something here for everyone, (reserve your seat today!)
There's mischief and malarkies but no queers or yids or darkies
Within this bastard's carnival, this vicious cabaret.

Here is a YouTube video of the song, with scenes from the movie set to it. While the song fits the graphic novel better, the music video will help you understand not only how it's supposed to be sung, but the imagery involved. Part of the graphic novel is set in 1998, so that's why they say, "At last! The 1998 show!" (parodying "At Last! The 1948 Show!").

Actually, this YouTube video is different from the one I intended to show, but the sequence where it concentrates on Creedy is actually meant to concentrate on Sutler (who was called Adam Susan in the graphic novel. No wonder he had such a complex). But it's better condition.

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5iln9bWgouA[/youtube]

Pardon me for being rude
It was not me, it was my food
It just came up to say, "hello"
And now it's gone back down, below

My dog looked at me with a strange look.

I said what you never saw a beautiful human before?

And my dog replied back "An still haven't"

Tom Lehrer perhaps.

I hold your hand in mine, dear,
I press it to my lips.
I take a healthy bite
From your dainty fingertips.

My joy would be complete, dear,
If you were only here,
But still I keep your hand
As a precious souvenir.

The night you died I cut it off.
I really don't know why.
For now each time I kiss it
I get bloodstains on my tie.

I'm sorry now I killed you,
For our love was something fine,
And till they come to get me
I shall hold your hand in mine.

My favourite:

Spring is here, a-suh-puh-ring is here.
Life is skittles and life is beer.
I think the loveliest time of the year is the spring.
I do, don't you? 'Course you do.
But there's one thing that makes spring complete for me,
And makes ev'ry Sunday a treat for me.

All the world seems in tune
On a spring afternoon,
When we're poisoning pigeons in the park.
Ev'ry Sunday you'll see
My sweetheart and me,
As we poison the pigeons in the park.

When they see us coming, the birdies all try an' hide,
But they still go for peanuts when coated with cyanide.
The sun's shining bright,
Ev'rything seems all right,
When we're poisoning pigeons in the park.

Lalaalaalalaladoodiedieedoodoodoo

We've gained notoriety,
And caused much anxiety
In the Audubon Society
With our games.
They call it impiety,
And lack of propriety,
And quite a variety
Of unpleasant names.
But it's not against any religion
To want to dispose of a pigeon.

So if Sunday you're free,
Why don't you come with me,
And we'll poison the pigeons in the park.
And maybe we'll do
In a squirrel or two,
While we're poisoning pigeons in the park.

We'll murder them all amid laughter and merriment.
Except for the few we take home to experiment.
My pulse will be quickenin'
With each drop of strychnine
We feed to a pigeon.
It just takes a smidgin!
To poison a pigeon in the park.

Aaron Aardvark’s Alphabetical Advancement (By Danny Reynolds)



When I first met Aaron Aardvark,
I said, “How do you do? ”
He seemed a little taken aback,
but said, “Fine thanks, how are you? ”

“Please, take a seat. How can I help?
Can you put me in the frame? ”
He raised his head, then sheepishly said,
“I’d like to change my name.”

His parents had been hippies once.
(Or at least, that was the rumour.)
But one thing that’s for certain,
they’d a wicked sense of humour.

Big fans of the Magic Roundabout,
and toilet humour too?
How else could they have conjured up,
“Zebedee McPooh.”

“I see, ” I said. (His face grew red.)
“By deed-poll, to be lawful? ”
“Whatever’s quick, as I’m just so sick.
The name Zebedee’s just so awful! ”

“You just want to change your Christian name? ”
I asked, sort of prompting for more.
“That’s right, I want to be “Connor”.
A heroic name for sure! ”

“Then when folk come up, and ask me my name,
I can say without a lie,
I am Connor McPooh, of the clan McPooh,
And I can never die! ”

At this point I stopped. The penny had dropped.
I knew then my goal was to find,
an underhand way, his decision to sway,
and wipe McPooh out of his mind.

“I shouldn’t really be telling you this,
but we’ve some special offers today.
There’s a name on the list, that’s too good to be missed,
And it’s yours for nominal pay.”

“Aaron Aardvark’s, the name for you.
You’ll go straight to the front of the queue.
Alphabetically speaking, the head of the pack.”
And he smiled, and agreed, it would do.

I passed him the form, in my mis-timed smug way,
thinking, “What clever work, did I do? ”
But alas and alack, he passed the form back,
signed by, Aaron Aardvark McPooh.

You just can’t help some folk.

London Underground

Some people might like to get a train to work
Or drive in in a Beamer or a merc,
Some guys like to travel in by bus,
But I can't be bothered with the fuss today
I'm going to take my bike,
Coz once again the Tube's on strike.
The greedy bastards want extra pay
for sitting on their arse all day
even though they earn 30K .
So I'm standing here in the pouring rain,
Where the f**k's my f*****g train?

London Underground
London Underground
They're all lazy f*****g useless c**ts
London Underground
London Underground
They're all greedy c**ts I want to shoot them all with a rifle.

All they say is "Please mind the doors",
and they learned that on the two day course,
This job could be done by a four year old.
They just leave us freezing in the cold.
What you smell is what you get
Burger King and piss and sweat
You roast to death in the boiling heat,
With tourists treading on your feet
and chewing gum on every seat,
so don't tell me to "Mind the gap"
I want my f*****g money back.

London Underground
London Underground
They're all lazy f*****g useless c**ts
London Underground
London Underground
They're all greedy c**ts I want to shoot them all with a rifle
LaLaLaLa
LaLaLaLa

The floors are sticky and the seats are damp,
Every platform has a f*****g tramp,
But the drivers get the day off when we're all late for work again,

London Underground
London Underground
WaWa W**kers , They're all W**kers ,
London Underground
London Underground

Take your Oystercard, and shove it up your a***hole.

Tiny little stirrings
Up on the roof there's noise
Could it be old Santa,
Bringing shiney presents,
To all the girls and boys?
"Who is that?"
"Its Christmas Rat!" "I've come to steal your toys!"
And down he came
And struck them lame,
By bashing in their knees
"I'm big and tough" "I'll take your stuff, and do as 'ere I please!"
He took their stuff,
And turned away,
Looking back to cast a leer,
Then to the kitchen he did go, and drank up daddy's beer
And up the chimney then he rose,
Quickly as he had come
Daddy tried to catch him there
'Rat kicked him in his bum
He threw the sack into the back
Of his flying pickup truck,
"I may be back again next year." "Harumph! If that's your luck."

If you're gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough by Roger Alan Wade

If your gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough
When you get knocked down you gotta get back up,
I ain't the sharpest knife in the drawer but I know enough, to know,
If your gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough

I lit my brain with rot gut whisky
Til my pain was chicken fried
I've had dudes with badges frisk me,
Teach me how to swollow pride

I took advice no fool would take
I got some habits, I can't shake
I aint the sharpets knife in the drawer but I know enough, to know,
If your gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough

If your gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough!
When you get knocked down you gotta get back up.
Thats the way it is in life and love
If your gonna be dumb you gotta be tough.