Archive for the ‘parody’ Category

To work or not to work that’s a big one:

What if work were to dull this blade of steel

Fit for nothing else than for slagheap?

Oh work is a big question of life and death;

If by avoiding do we escape the slur Oh no!

To live on others is to damn us-

Better a cart horse than sow in her swill,

Before our maker

and our fellowmen we stand

Broken but with souls as bright as ever!

To sleep after hard labor

A blessing indeed:

Work so we may leave death to do his own

benny, (not Jack Benny)


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So we’ll part by the fork yonder,

It was fun all the way,

But my poor heart grows fonder

For the hearth and no other way


My mom will have it, poor fellow:

Take fleet footed time by throat

And leave no room for sorrow

Of golden youth come to nought.


Tho’ we broke into banks diverse

A strange tremor cracks its whip:

To mix palsy with gel is perverse

I’d not let Mom over me weep.


Original version:

SO, we’ll go no more a-roving

  So late into the night,

Though the heart be still as loving,

  And the moon be still as bright.


For the sword outwears its sheath,

  And the soul wears out the breast,

And the heart must pause to breathe,

  And love itself have rest.


Though the night was made for loving,

  And the day returns too soon,

Yet we’ll go no more a-roving

  By the light of the moon.

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Aint it dandy if our misspent youth

Writ for no other reason than the crack cocaine,

Has work’d its magic over loathsome days

Into an undeniable bestseller?

Hopped up with coke in our clogged veins

Not even truth may be found in our blood-

But we have sign’d deal for seven digit

This much truth even the coke will admit .

But did truth come anywhere near our lives

Not for all the stuff we mainlined we say!

Truth be said for the world that imagines

What it reads for its crudities as real!

Who is hopped up but the prosaic world

To swallow this drivel coke has penned:

In a manner of speaking coke killed us

And used us to make this whole stuff up 


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I pandered my art to the crowd

Whose tastes were as low as can be;

And when magenta was the rage

My daffodils vowed them all:

Nev’r did critics see such still-life

As glorious as daffodils

In maddening color,-

Magenta they cried so loud

And paid gold to possess art.

Daffodils ever since grow

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

No more fluttering or dancing in the breeze

But incongruous to passer-by:

Art killed nature, I dare say.

Here below is the original: 

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o’er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that…”


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Fighter,fighter losing sight

Of th’ prizemoney in a bout?

What madness has got you

To go down with out a fight?

Could you not hold the challenger

With such brawn you deem to hold

Till each limb fell from wear?

Oh no the third round you caught

The eye of mobster, a sign

To take the fall, and you did!

Fighter,fighter losing sight

Of th’ prizemoney in a bout

Was bad for bums who thought

You had it in you to win the fight.




original poem 

Tiger, tiger, burning bright

In the forests of the night,

What immortal hand or eye

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?


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A variation to the Blake quote ‘To see a World in a grain etc.,:
To see a fly in a bowl of soup
And gleaming smile of Mr. Yongle
As I tackle noodles laid in god-knows-what slime
Need I die before time, tell me?

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“To see a mug in the hand of a lush,

And a barmaid across the counter

Hold palaver with the bums who cut your view,

An hour is better spent elsewhere.”

Original quote is as below”
William Blake – “To see a World in a Grain of Sand And a Heaven in a Wild Flower, Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour.”


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The Destruction of Sennachereb


Oh banks all had hedge funds, came down they like pack of cards

I am told not a drop of blood fell from their innards;

But life annuities played and lost for no better rede

Than they all thought better ‘nother lost than they their greed.


Like their High Priests with diamonds on their pinkies-

Libor was the hateful bar sinister of some flunkies, 

Oh darkness of malice behind its shield glowered

Like some piglet greased on a spit and spluttered.


The widows and old men shall weep loud for their savings

Betrayed by bankers and goaded to ruin by credit ratings;

There shall come wise men and fix the foul fiendish mart

But none shall redeem their trust nor their broken heart!


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Well, hit or miss, what! Are we in the red
Like Lehman Brothers?-the world has gone mad.
Let Banks cry, “Foreclose!” as they please
Money is all that need not lose its head.
(#8 in the Second ed.)

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Parodies based on Edward Fitzgerald version:

Seeking yet old thrill,-it begins anew
I heard a cry within, ‘Snort or go bust!’
‘Yeah with a monkey on my back a fix
Will give my world its center: I am at rest !

A quick bite on the run to my workplace
Will keep me for the day in this rat race:
You do know how to get on without sweat?
Backbite or kiss the ass to save the face. (#2 and 3 from First Ed.)


Here with a kindle O, beneath the Sun
A word or two from my love,-it is fun
If she had her Kindle too; Had Khayyam
lived now would he check out from Amazon?

(Fifth Ed.)

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