Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Spriiing

Spring is here, my lovelies!! Can't you smell it? Can't you hear it? Don't you want to live in a musical where indian women in colorful saris jump out from behind trees and start dancing when you have that spring feelin'? Because I do. I'm spending the day at Border's today, and I'm very content sitting here with my mountain of books. It never fails to lift me up, being surrounded by books all day. OH, THE SMELL OF BOOKS!! Intoxicating! Especially when mingled with that springness that makes me burst out into song, much to the irritation of my family and strangers in grocery store isles. Be happy everyone! Inhale the sunshine and green grass and newness of spring and exhale the dregs of winter bitterness from your lungs. Oh, and go cut your hair and kiss someone. Back to my books I go.
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3 comments:

  1. PaddyApril 8, 2011 at 12:12 PM

    In Soviet Russia, book read you.

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  2. PaddyApril 9, 2011 at 12:04 PM

    This comment has been removed by the author.

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  3. PaddyApril 9, 2011 at 12:08 PM

    Spring is here
    Ah-sprrring is here
    Spring is Skittles
    And spring is beer
    Spring is the loveliest time of the year
    Oh yes
    I think so
    Don't you?
    'Course you do.

    But there's one thing that makes spring
    Complete for me
    And makes every Sunday
    A treat for me....

    All the world is in tune
    On a spring afternoon
    When we're poisoning pigeons in the park
    Every Sunday you'll see
    My sweetheart and me
    Poisoning pigeons in the park

    When they see us coming
    The birdies all try and hide
    But they still go for peanuts
    When coated with cyanide

    The sun's shining bright
    And the world seems all right
    When we're poisoning pigeons in the park

    We've gained notoriety
    And caused much anxiety
    At the Audobon Society with our games
    They call it impiety
    And lack of propriety
    And quite a variety of unpleasant names
    But it's not against any religion
    To want to dispose of a pigeon

    So if Sunday you're free
    Why don't you come with me
    And we'll poison the pigeons in the park
    And maybe we'll do in a squirrel or two
    As we poison the pigeons in the park

    We'll murder them all
    Amid laughter and merriment
    Except for the few
    We take home to experiment

    My pulse will be quickenin'
    With each drop of Strychnine
    We feed to a pigeon
    (It just takes a smidgin)
    To poison a pigeon in the park.

    Thanks T. Lehrer (deceased)

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