And Now for Something Completely Different

I have changed my Header, to reflect my earlier post about the metaphorical roads I intend not to go down, and the ones I intend to explore.  I shall keep the title Flitting Among the Swanplants because it is what I do.  I flit from subject to subject.  This is not a single theme focussed blog, it is a journal.

Alternate titles Shit Happens!  or  Life? Don’t talk to me about Life! 

As I write this I am listening to ….

Baldheaded End of the Broom
By Harry Bennett, 1877.

Well, love it is a funny, funny thing,
Catches both young and old.
Just like a plate of boarding house hash,
And many’s the man’s been sold.
Make you feel like a freshwater eel,
Cause your head to swell.
You lose your mind ‘cause love is blind,
And empty your pockets as well.

Chorus:
Boys, I say, from the girls keep away,
Give them lots of room,
For when you’re wed, they’ll hit you on the head
With the baldheaded end of the broom.

When a man’s in love with a pretty little girl,
He’ll talk to her gentle as a dove.
He’ll spend his money and he’ll call her honey,
And it’s all for fun and love.
But when the money’s all spent and he can’t pay the rent,
He’ll find the old story’s true.
A mole on the arm’s worth two on the leg,
And what is he gonna for to do?

With a wife and sixteen half-starved kids,
You’ll find it is no fun,
When the butcher comes around to collect his bill
With a dog and a double-barreled gun.
With a cross-eyed baby on each knee,
And a wife with a plaster on her nose,
You’ll find true love doesn’t run so smooth
When you gotta wear second-hand clothes.

When married folks got lots of cash,
True love runs smooth and strong.
But when they gots to live on hash,
That love don’t last very long.
So boys, I say, take my advice,
Don’t be in a hurry to wed.
You’ll think you’re in clover ‘till the honeymoon is over,
And then you’ll wish you were dead.

Advertisements

About Uisce úr

Though I am old with wandering Through hollow lands and hilly lands, I will find out where she has gone, And kiss her lips and take her hands; And walk among long dappled grass, And pluck till time and times are done, The silver apples of the moon, The golden apples of the sun.
This entry was posted in Art, Classics, Depression, Entertainment, Family, Folklore, Handy Hints, Health and wellness, History, Hobbies, Humour, Life, don't talk to me about life!, Lifestyle, Music, Philosophy, Poetry, Relationships and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to And Now for Something Completely Different

  1. Alan says:

    and me with this terrible pain in all the diodes down my left side.

    Like

  2. Observations of a Perpetual Motorcyclist says:

    Brain the size of a planet and what do they ask me to do? Open the door Marvin!

    Like

Please comment!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s