Thread for posting useless $#!t - Page 45

Rotorflyr · #**661** 02-06-2005, 01:14 PM

If you want to leave a message after the tone
Then speak clearly and I'll call you when I'm home
Just say your words and say your name
Leave the time and date you called
And I'll get back to you
Unless you're completely a boring old fart

If you want to leave a message after the tone
And darling, please forgive me, I'm not home
I'm out shopping or trying to buy a dress
So please leave your message, unless you're in distress
Please leave a message after the tone
I'm so sorry this is taking me so long
I hope you're not calling from Australia
Or far from Singapore
Or this whole thing is costing you a fortune
As well as being a bore

(sobbing) Leave a message, please leave me a message after the tone
Because ... alright I am! I am home! I am, I am, I am!
I'm locked up in the bathroom all alone
Please leave a-me a message after the tone.

Rotorflyr · #**662** 02-06-2005, 01:16 PM

Beethoven's gone, but his music lives on,
And Mozart don't go shopping no more.
You'll never meet Liszt or Brahms again,
And Elgar doesn't answer the door.
Schubert and Chopin used to chuckle and laugh,
Whilst composing a long symphony,
But one hundred and fifty years later,
There's very little of them left to see.

They're decomposing composers.
There's nothing much anyone can do.
You can still hear Beethoven,
But Beethoven cannot hear you.
Handel and Haydn and Rachmaninov
Enjoyed a nice drink with their meal,
But nowadays, no one will serve them,
And their gravy is left to congeal.

Verdi and Wagner delighted the crowds
With their highly original sound.
The pianos they played are still working,
But they're both six feet underground.

They're decomposing composers.
There's less of them every year.
You can say what you like to Debussy,
But there's not much of him left to hear.

Claude Achille Debussy-- Died, 1918.

Christophe Willebald Gluck-- Died, 1787.

Carl Maria von Weber-- Not at all well, 1825. Died, 1826.

Giacomo Meyerbeer-- Still alive, 1863. Not still alive, 1864.

Modeste Mussorgsky-- 1880, going to parties. No fun anymore, 1881.

Johan Nepomuk Hummel-- Chatting away nineteen to the dozen with his mates down the pub every evening, 1836. 1837, nothing.

Rotorflyr · #**663** 02-06-2005, 01:20 PM

Brian. The babe they called 'Brian',
He grew,... grew, grew, and grew--
Grew up to be-- grew up to be
A boy called 'Brian'--
A boy called 'Brian'.
He had arms... and legs... and hands... and feet,
This boy... whose name was 'Brian',
And he grew,... grew, grew, and grew--
Grew up to be--
Yes, he grew up to be
A teenager called 'Brian'--
A teenager called 'Brian',
And his face became spotty.
Yes, his face became spotty,
And his voice dropped down low
And things started to grow
On young Brian and show
He was certainly no--
No girl named 'Brian',
Not a girl named 'Brian'.
And he started to shave
And have one off the wrist
And want to see girls
And go out and get pissed,
A man called 'Brian'--
This man called 'Brian'--
The man they called 'Brian'--
This man called 'Brian'!

Rotorflyr · #**664** 02-06-2005, 01:27 PM

Bravely bold Sir Robin rode forth from Camelot.
He was not afraid to die, O brave Sir Robin.
He was not at all afraid to be killed in nasty ways,
Brave, brave, brave, brave Sir Robin!
He was not in the least bit scared to be mashed into a pulp,
Or to have his eyes gouged out and his elbows broken,
To have his kneecaps split and his body burned away
And his limbs all hacked and mangled, brave Sir Robin!

His head smashed in and his heart cut out
And his liver removed and his bowels unplugged
And his nostrils raped and his bottom burned off
And his pen--

Brave Sir Robin ran away,
Bravely ran away, away.
When danger reared its ugly head, he bravely turned his tail and fled.
Yes, brave Sir Robin turned about
And gallantly, he chickened out. Bravely taking to his feet,
He beat a very brave retreat,
Bravest of the brave, Sir Robin.

He is packing it in and packing it up
And sneaking away and buggering up
And chickening out and pissing off home,
Yes, bravely he is throwing in the sponge.