W. H. Auden

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public
    doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

-o0o-

Strange Fruit by Billie Holiday

(Written originally by Abel Meeropol as a poem)

Southern trees bear a strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.

Pastoral scene of the gallant south,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh,
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh.

Here is fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.

-o0o-

Tunisian Jasmine by Ibn al Dheeb

Knowing that those that satisfy themselves
and upset their people tomorrow
will have someone else sitting in their seat,
knowing that those that satisfy themselves
and upset their people tomorrow
will have someone else sitting in their seat,
for those that think the country is in your
and your kids’ names, the country is for
the people, and its glories are theirs.

Repeat with one voice, for one faith:
We are all Tunisia in the face of repressive elites.
We are all Tunisia in the face of repressive elites.

The Arab governments and who rules them are,
without exception, thieves. Thieves!
The question that frames the thoughts
of those who wonder will not find an answer
in any official channels. As long as it imports
everything it has from the West,
why can’t it import laws and freedoms?
Why can’t it import laws and freedoms?

-o0o-

The Carpenter speech in Nick Willing's Alice (2009)

The time has come, Walrus, old friend,
to test our many stills,
The ooh's, the aah's, the healing drops,
passions and thrills,
To see how joy, and awe, and lust,
can all be turned to pills.

-o0o-

Fathers by A.E. Ballakisten

How were we to live without our fathers,

absent fathers, invisible fathers,
negligent fathers, fathers who failed
to escape the ash that blesses all
who stand beneath clouds, faces upturned,
in search of the dignity that comes
with taking home a half-loaf of bread?

How were we to know that these fathers
angry fathers, depleted fathers,
tired fathers, would never return
to remove their shadow from the sun?
Freedom rumbles in our empty hands,
frightened hands, our fathers' gift to us.

How are we supposed to live as fathers?

-o0o-

Fam and Fufan by Benny Hill

Benny Hill wrote this (Although he writes it as if it were by Foloman Faint John) This won't be funny if you don't understand how the letter S was written as an f in English way back when.

"Fam and Fufan by Foloman Faint John

Fam the Blackfmith tollf the bellf with ftrong and finuey handf
He haf loft hif heart to Fufan but alaf fhe if too grand
Fufan waf ftrolling by the ftream liftening af the church bellf rang
They founded fad, but not af fad af the fong that Fufan fang

Fuddenly the fun came out, funfhine alwayf made her gay
Fhe faid, "I think I'll have a fwim, it'f fuch a funny day."
Af Fue took off her bloufe and flip and corfet fo that fhe could have a fwim
Fid the Faddler fpied on her, but Fue could not fee him

Flowly Fue took off her fhoef and fockf and when fhe waf undreffed
Finful Fidney felt hif heart abeating in hif breft
The Fun Fone on the Filky Foftneff of her golden hair
It cafcaded paft her fhoulderf and refted on her boffum there

Hif heart waf filled with luft af Fue fauntered acroff the graff
He longed to ftroke that tiny waift and that large well rounded aff
Af Fue flid into the water Fid revealed himfelf to her
He ftood befide her clothing, determined not to ftirr

Fufan who waf flightly fhocked faid, "Fir pleafe go away."
But Fidney full of farcafm faid, "I'm here and here I ftay."
Fufan picked up a faufepan, and ufing it to hide
Her feminine embarraffment ftrode up to Fidney'f fide

"Fir," fhe faid, "Do you know what I think, you filly clot?"
He faid, "You think that faufepan haf a bottom, it haf not."
The fcene waf fet for feduction when blackfmith Fam appeared
"Oh fave me Fam," faid Fufan. Fam grabbed at Fidney'f beard

They wreftled and they tuffled and their mufclef fhone with fweat
Fid flipped and did a fummerfault, diflocating hif neck
Af Fam held Fue in hif ftrong armf he felt her foftly figh
"I'm yourf. Feel it with a kiff. I'm yourf until I die."

Now they're married and have fixteen children and they've juft purchafed a new pram
Af I've faid before there'f no one who can ring the bell like Fam"

(Do you know how difficult this is to write out.)

Monty Python's "All Things Dull and Ugly"

All things dull and ugly,
All creatures short and squat,
All things rude and nasty,
The Lord God made the lot.

Each little snake that poisons,
Each little wasp that stings,
He made their brutish venom.
He made their horrid wings.

All things sick and cancerous,
All evil great and small,
All things foul and dangerous,
The Lord God made them all.

Each nasty little hornet,
Each beastly little squid--
Who made the spikey urchin?
Who made the sharks? He did!

All things scabbed and ulcerous,
All pox both great and small,
Putrid, foul and gangrenous,
The Lord God made them all.

Amen.

-o0o-