A humor break

A Humor Break

Song To Be Sung by the Father of Infant Female Children 1
Two shorties by Ogden Nash 2
Wizard of Oz Scarecrow Song 2
Nostalgia 3
Keeper of the Eddystone Light 4
Wizard of Oz Cowardly Lion Song 5
I am the monarch of the sea 5
The Unnumbered Psalm 6
Ozark Euphemisms 7
The plaintiff bar lawyer’s plea to the beloved 7
Exchanges Between Pilots and Control Towers 8
You are old, father William 10
A True Account of Talking to the Sun at Fire Island 10

Song To Be Sung by the Father of Infant Female Children
by Ogden Nash

My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky;
Contrariwise, my blood runs cold
When little boys go by.
For little boys as little boys,
No special hate I carry,
But now and then they grow to men,
And when they do, they marry.
No matter how they tarry,
Eventually they marry.
And, swine among the pearls,
They marry little girls.
………

Oh, somewhere he bubbles bubbles of milk,
And quietly sucks his thumbs.
His cheeks are roses painted on silk,
And his teeth are tucked in his gums.
But alas the teeth will begin to grow,
And the bubbles will cease to bubble;
Given a score of years or so,
The roses will turn to stubble.
He'll sell a bond, or he'll write a book,
And his eyes will get that acquisitive look,
And raging and ravenous for the kill,
He'll boldly ask for the hand of Jill.
This infant whose middle
Is diapered still
Will want to marry My daughter Jill.

Oh sweet be his slumber and moist his middle!
My dreams, I fear, are infanticiddle.
A fig for embryo Lohengrins!
I'll open all his safety pins,
I'll pepper his powder, and salt his bottle,
And give him readings from Aristotle.
Sand for his spinach I'll gladly bring,
And Tabasco sauce for his teething ring.
Then perhaps he'll struggle through fire and water
To marry somebody else's daughter.


Two shorties by Ogden Nash

The Termite

Some primal termite knocked on wood
And tasted it, and found it good!
And that is why your Cousin May
Fell through the parlor floor today.

The Cow

The cow is of the bovine ilk;
One end is moo, the other, milk.

Wizard of Oz Scarecrow Song
Movie made: 1939
Singer: Ray Bolger 1904 - 1987
Composer Harburg, E.Y. ("Yip") (1898 - 1981)

I could while away the hours, conferrin' with the flowers
Consultin' with the rain.
And my head I'd be scratchin' while
my thoughts were busy hatchin'
If I only had a brain.

I'd unravel every riddle for any individ'le,
In trouble or in pain.
With the thoughts you'll be thinkin'
you could be another Lincoln
If you only had a brain.

Oh, I could tell you why The ocean's near the shore.
I could think of things I never thunk before.
And then I'd sit, and think some more.
I would not be just a nothin' my head all full of stuffin'
My heart all full of pain.
I would dance and be merry, life would be a ding-a-derry,
If I only had a brain.

Nostalgia
Billy Collins

Remember the 1340's? We were doing a dance called the Catapult.
You always wore brown, the color craze of the decade,
and I was draped in one of those capes that were popular,
the ones with unicorns and pomegranates in needlework.
Everyone would pause for beer and onions in the afternoon,
and at night we would play a game called "Find the Cow."
Everything was hand-lettered then, not like today.

Where has the summer of 1572 gone? Brocade and sonnet
marathons were the rage. We used to dress up in the flags
of rival baronies and conquer one another in cold rooms of stone.
Out on the dance floor we were all doing the Struggle
while your sister practiced the Daphne all alone in her room.
We borrowed the jargon of farriers for our slang.
These days language seems transparent a badly broken code.

The 1790's will never come again. Childhood was big.
People would take walks to the very tops of hills
and write down what they saw in their journals without speaking.
Our collars were high and our hats were extremely soft.
We would surprise each other with alphabets made of twigs.
It was a wonderful time to be alive, or even dead.

I am very fond of the period between 1815 and 1821.
Europe trembled while we sat still for our portraits.
And I would love to return to 1901 if only for a moment,
time enough to wind up a music box and do a few dance steps,
or shoot me back to 1922 or 1941, or at least let me
recapture the serenity of last month when we picked
berries and glided through afternoons in a canoe.

Even this morning would be an improvement over the present.
I was in the garden then, surrounded by the hum of bees
and the Latin names of flowers, watching the early light
flash off the slanted windows of the greenhouse
and silver the limbs on the rows of dark hemlocks.

As usual, I was thinking about the moments of the past,
letting my memory rush over them like water
rushing over the stones on the bottom of a stream.
I was even thinking a little about the future, that place
where people are doing a dance we cannot imagine,
a dance whose name we can only guess.

Keeper of the Eddystone Light

My father was the keeper of the Eddystone light
And he slept with a mermaid one fine night
Out of this union there came three
A porpoise and a porgy and the other was me!
Yo ho ho, the wind blows free,
Oh for the life on the rolling sea!

One night, as I was a-trimming the glim
Singing a verse from the evening hymn
I head a voice cry out an "Ahoy!"
And there was my mother, sitting on a buoy.
Yo ho ho, the wind blows free,
Oh for the life on the rolling sea!

"Oh, what has become of my children three?"
My mother then inquired of me.
One's on exhibit as a talking fish
The other was served in a chafing dish.
Yo ho ho, the wind blows free,
Oh for the life on the rolling sea!

Then the phosphorus flashed in her seaweed hair.
I looked again, and my mother wasn't there
But her voice came angrily out of the night
"To Hell with the keeper of the Eddystone Light!"
Yo ho ho, the wind blows free,
Oh for the life on the rolling sea!




Wizard of Oz Cowardly Lion Song

Yeh, it's sad, believe me, Missy, When you're born to be a sissy
Without the vim and verve.
But I could show my prowess, be a lion not a mou-ess
If I only had the nerve.
I'm afraid there's no denyin' I'm just a dandelion,
A fate I don't deserve.
I'd be brave as a blizzard....
Tin Man I'd be gentle as a lizard....
Scarecrow I'd be clever as a gizzard....
Dorothy If the Wizard is a Wizard who will serve.
Scarecrow Then I'm sure to get a brain,
Tin Man a heart,
Dorothy a home,
Lion the nerve!

I am the monarch of the sea
CAPT (from poop).

Now give three cheers,
I'll lead the way
Hurrah! Hurray!
ALL.
Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurray!

Enter Sir Joseph with Cousin Hebe

SONG -- SIR JOSEPH

I am the monarch of the sea,
The ruler of the Queen's Navee,
Whose praise Great Britain loudly chants.
COUSIN HEBE.
And we are his sisters, and his cousins, and his aunts!
ALL (except Hebe).
And we/they are his sisters, and his cousins, and his aunts!
ALL.
His sisters, and his cousins, and his aunts!
SIR JOSEPH.
When at anchor here I ride,
My bosom swells with pride,
And I snap my fingers at a foeman's taunts;
COUSIN HEBE.
And so do his sisters, and his cousins, and his aunts!
ALL (except Hebe).
And so do his sisters, and his cousins, and his aunts!
ALL.
His sisters, and his cousins, and his aunts!
SIR JOSEPH.
But when the breezes blow,
I generally go below,
And seek the seclusion that a cabin grants;
COUSIN HEBE.
And so do his sisters, and his cousins, and his aunts!
WOMEN.
And so do his sisters, and his cousins, and his aunts!
ALL.
And so do his sisters, and his cousins, and his aunts!
His sisters and his cousins,
Whom he reckons up by dozens,
And his aunts!

The Unnumbered Psalm

Bush is my shepherd; I dwell in want.
He maketh logs to be cut down in national forests.
He leadeth trucks into the still wilderness.
He restoreth my fears.
He leadeth me in the paths of international disgrace
for his ego's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of pollution and
war, I will find no exit, for thou art in office.
Thy tax cuts for the rich and thy media control,
they discount me.
Thou preparest an agenda of deception in the presence
of thy religion.
Thou anointest my head with foreign oil.
My health insurance runneth out.
Surely megalomania and false patriotism shall follow me
all the days of thy term,
And my jobless child shall dwell in my basement forever.







Ozark Euphemisms

To simply say “Come get your cows” would be unforgettably rude. Here are ten ways, in descending order of indirection, for the trespassed farmer to get the point across:

1. “Guess what I just saw in my bottom meadow?”
2. “You might want to take a look at what’s down in my bottom meadow.”
3. “You’ll never believe what I just saw in my rosebushes.”
4. “Might could be you’d want to take a look out your east window toward my rosebushes.”
5. “I do believe your cows are out.”
6. “You want to come get yours cows?”
7. “Do you know where your cows are?”
8. “Guess where your cows are?”
9. “I have really had it with your cows.”
10. “I am so sorry to have to tell you this, but your cows are in my rosebushes again. I’m afraid you’ll have to come get them.”

The plaintiff bar lawyer’s plea to the beloved
From Jack Rogak

Dearest darling, hear my plea
This is what you are to me:
You're my sidewalk with a crater
You're my plunging elevator
You're my fat and heart attacks
From a diet of Big Macs
You're my car with failing brakes
You're my surgeon with the shakes
You're my subway platform gap
You're hot coffee in my lap
You're the black ice on my stairs
You're flammable underwear
You're my keloid-scar-on-face
You're my no fault threshold case
You're my lead-ingesting child
You're my vicious dog run wild
You're my mold-infested house
You're my Coke with head of mouse
You're my boss who grabs a breast
You're my blatant false arrest
You're my old and shaky ladder
Causing roofing men to splatter
You're my pratfalls, screams and squeals
From well-placed banana peels
You're my pilot with poor vision
You're my nineteen-car collision
You're my double torn meniscus
You're my herniated discus
You're my bar that sells drunks liquor--
Few things bring on lawsuits quicker
And you hold up very nicely
Next to crosswalks slick and icy
You're sudden acceleration
Crashing cars around the nation
You're my broken stoplight, honey--
Turning pockets green with money
You're my alley strewn with trash
Causing falls, producing cash
You are every kind of woe
I can wangle into dough
Like an misdiagnosed tumor
That I turn into mazuma
Like a fall that hurts your head
That produces lots of bread
Like a crippled caballero
Who can win mucho dinero
Like an injured little cutie
Who produces lots of booty
Like a simple fender bender
That produces legal tender
Some call what I do a racket
My response is, "Kiss my assets."
People's woes bring me such glee
You mean all these things to me
So, my dearest, lest I sue
Let me hear these words from you:
"Be my Valentine, by heck
Mark it settled, cut the check."

Exchanges Between Pilots and Control Towers

Tower: "Delta 351, you have traffic at 10 o'clock, 6 miles!"
Delta 351: "Give us another hint! We have digital watches! "

*********
Tower: "TWA 2341, for noise abatement turn right 45 Degrees."
TWA 2341: "Center, we are at 35, 000 feet. How much noise can we make up here?
"Tower: "Sir, have you ever heard the noise a 747 makes when it hits a 727?"

********
O'Hare Approach Control to a 747: "United 329 heavy, your traffic is a Fokker, one o'clock, three miles, Eastbound."
United 329: "Approach, I've always wanted to say this. . . I've got the little Fokker in sight."

********

A DC-10 had come in a little hot and thus had an exceedingly long roll out after touching down. San Jose Tower Noted: "American 751, make a hard right turn at the end of the runway, if you are able. If you are not able, take the Guadeloupe
exit off Highway 101, make a right at the lights and return to the airport."

************

One day the pilot of a Cherokee 180 was told by the tower to hold short of the active runway while a DC-8 landed. The DC-8 landed, rolled out, turned around, and taxied back past the Cherokee. Some quick-witted comedian in the DC-8 crew got on the radio and said, "What a cute little plane. Did you make it all by yourself?"
The Cherokee pilot, not about to let the insult go by, came back with a real zinger: "I made it out of DC-8 parts. Another landing like yours and I'll have enough parts for another one."

**********
While taxiing at London's Gatwick Airport, the crew of a US Air flight departing for Ft. Lauderdale made a wrong turn and came nose to nose with a United 727. An irate female ground controller lashed out at the US Air crew, screaming: "US Air 2771, where the hell are you going? I told you to turn right onto Charlie taxiway! You turned right on Delta! Stop right there. I know it's difficult for you to tell the difference between C and D, but get it right!"
Continuing her rage to the embarrassed crew, she was now shouting hysterically: "God! Now you've screwed everything up! It'll take forever to sort this out! You stay right there and don't move till I tell you to! You can expect progressive taxi instructions in about half an hour, and I want you to go exactly where I tell you, when I tell you, and how I tell you! You got that, US Air 2771? "
"Yes, ma'am, " the humbled crew responded.
Naturally, the ground control communications frequency fell terribly silent after the verbal bashing of US Air 2771. Nobody wanted to chance engaging the irate ground controller in her current state of mind. Tension in every cockpit around Gatwick was definitely running high.
Just then an unknown pilot broke the silence and keyed his microphone, asking: "Wasn't I married to you once?"


You are old, father William
Lewis Carroll

"You are old, father William," the young man said,
"And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head
Do you think, at your age, it is right?

"In my youth," father William replied to his son,
"I feared it might injure the brain;
But, now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again."

"You are old," said the youth, "as I mentioned before,
And you have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door
Pray what is the reason for that?"

"In my youth," said the sage, as he shook his grey locks,
"I kept all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment one shilling a box
Allow me to sell you a couple?"

"You are old," said the youth, "and your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak
Pray, how did you manage to do it?"

"In my youth," said his fater, "I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw,
Has lasted the rest of my life."

"You are old," said the youth, "one would hardly suppose
That your eye was as steady as ever;
Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose
What made you so awfully clever?"

"I have answered three questions, and that is enough,"
Said his father. "Don't give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off, or I'll kick you down stairs.

A True Account of Talking to the Sun at Fire Island
by Frank O'Hara

The Sun woke me this morning loud
and clear, saying "Hey! I've been
trying to wake you up for fifteen
minutes. Don't be so rude, you are
only the second poet I've ever chosen
to speak to personally
so why
aren't you more attentive? If I could
burn you through the window I would
to wake you up. I can't hang around
here all day."
"Sorry, Sun, I stayed
up late last night talking to Hal."

****

"When I woke up Mayakovsky he was
a lot more prompt" the Sun said
petulantly. "Most people are up
already waiting to see if I'm going
to put in an appearance."
I tried
to apologize "I missed you yesterday."
"That's better" he said. "I didn't
know you'd come out." "You may be wondering why I've come so close?"
"Yes" I said beginning to feel hot
and wondering if maybe he wasn't burning me
anyway.
"Frankly I wanted to tell you
I like your poetry. I see a lot
on my rounds and you're okay. You may
not be the greatest thing on earth, but
you're different. Now, I've heard some
say you're crazy, they being excessively
calm themselves to my mind, and other
crazy poets think that you're a boring
reactionary. Not me.

****

Just keep on
like I do and pay no attention. You'll
find that some people always will
complain about the atmosphere,
either too hot
or too cold too bright or too dark, days
too short or too long.
If you don't appear
at all one day they think you're lazy
or dead. Just keep right on, I like it.

****
And don't worry about your lineage
poetic or natural. The Sun shines on
the jungle, you know, on the tundra
the sea, the ghetto. Wherever you were
I knew it and saw you moving. I was waiting
for you to get to work.

And now that you
are making your own days, so to speak,
even if no one reads you but me
you won't be depressed. Not
everyone can look up, even at me. It
hurts their eyes."
"Oh Sun, I'm so grateful to you!"

****

"Thanks and remember I'm watching. It's
easier for me to speak to you out
here. I don't have to slide down
between buildings to get your ear.
I know you love Manhattan, but
you ought to look up more often.
And
always embrace things, people earth
sky stars, as I do, freely and with
the appropriate sense of space. That
is your inclination, known in the heavens
and you should follow it to hell, if
necessary, which I doubt.

****

Maybe we'll
speak again in Africa, of which I too
am specially fond. Go back to sleep now
Frank, and I may leave a tiny poem
in that brain of yours as my farewell."

"Sun, don't go!" I was awake
at last. "No, go I must, they're calling
me."
"Who are they?"
Rising he said "Some
day you'll know. They're calling to you
too." Darkly he rose, and then I slept.