Linux Songs Poems

        The Lord and I are in a sheep-shepherd relationship, and I am in
a position of negative need.
        He prostrates me in a green-belt grazing area.
        He conducts me directionally parallel to non-torrential aqueous
liquid.
        He returns to original satisfaction levels my psychological makeup.
        He switches me on to a positive behavioral format for maximal
prestige of His identity.
        It should indeed be said that notwithstanding the fact that I make
ambulatory progress through the umbragious inter-hill mortality slot, terror
sensations will no be initiated in me, due to para-etical phenomena.
        Your pastoral walking aid and quadrupic pickup unit introduce me
into a pleasurific mood state.
        You design and produce a nutriment-bearing furniture-type structure
in the context of non-cooperative elements.
        You act out a head-related folk ritual employing vegetable extract.
        My beverage utensil experiences a volume crisis.
        It is an ongoing deductible fact that your inter-relational
empathetical and non-ventious capabilities will retain me as their
target-focus for the duration of my non-death period, and I will possess
tenant rights in the housing unit of the Lord on a permanent, open-ended
time basis.

The makers may make
and the users may use,
but the fixers must fix
with but minimal clues

The man she had was kind and clean
And well enough for every day,
But oh, dear friends, you should have seen
The one that got away.
                -- Dorothy Parker, "The Fisherwoman"

The morning sun when it's in your face really shows your age,
But that don't bother me none; in my eyes you're everything.
I know I keep you amused,
But I feel I'm being used.
Oh, Maggie, I wish I'd never seen your face.

You took me away from home,
Just to save you from being alone;
You stole my heart, and that's what really hurts.

I suppose I could collect my books and get on back to school,
Or steal my daddy's cue and make a living out of playing pool,
Or find myself a rock 'n' roll band,
That needs a helping hand,
Oh, Maggie I wish I'd never seen your face.

You made a first-class fool out of me,
But I'm as blind as a fool can be.
You stole my soul, and that's a pain I can do without.
                -- Rod Stewart, "Maggie May"

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
        Moves on: nor all they Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
        Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.

The net of law is spread so wide,
No sinner from its sweep may hide.
Its meshes are so fine and strong,
They take in every child of wrong.
O wondrous web of mystery!
Big fish alone escape from thee!
                -- James Jeffrey Roche

The night passes quickly when you're asleep
But I'm out shufflin' for something to eat
...
Breakfast at the Egg House,
Like the waffle on the griddle,
I'm burnt around the edges,
But I'm tender in the middle.
                -- Adrian Belew

The one L lama, he's a priest
The two L llama, he's a beast
And I will bet my silk pyjama
There isn't any three L lllama.
                -- O. Nash, to which a fire chief replied that occasionally
                his department responded to something like a "three L lllama."

The Pig, if I am not mistaken,
Gives us ham and pork and Bacon.
Let others think his heart is big,
I think it stupid of the Pig.
                -- Ogden Nash

The Poet Whose Badness Saved His Life
        The most important poet in the seventeenth century was George
Wither.  Alexander Pope called him "wretched Wither" and Dryden said of his
verse that "if they rhymed and rattled all was well".
        In our own time, "The Dictionary of National Biography" notes that his
work "is mainly remarkable for its mass, fluidity and flatness.  It usually
lacks any genuine literary quality and often sinks into imbecile doggerel".
        High praise, indeed, and it may tempt you to savour a typically
rewarding stanza: It is taken from "I loved a lass" and is concerned with
the higher emotions.
                She would me "Honey" call,
                She'd -- O she'd kiss me too.
                But now alas!  She's left me
                Falero, lero, loo.
        Among other details of his mistress which he chose to immortalize
was her prudent choice of footwear.
                The fives did fit her shoe.
        In 1639 the great poet's life was endangered after his capture by
the Royalists during the English Civil War.  When Sir John Denham, the
Royalist poet, heard of Wither's imminent execution, he went to the King and
begged that his life be spared.  When asked his reason, Sir John replied,
"Because that so long as Wither lived, Denham would not be accounted the
worst poet in England."
                -- Stephen Pile, "The Book of Heroic Failures"