I will not play at tug o' war I'd rather play at hug o' war, Where everyone hugs Instead of tugs Where everyone giggles And rolls on the rug, Where everyone kisses And everyone grins And everyone cuddles And everyone wins.
Oh, nothing! I've just had sunburn so bad since Monday that I haven't had any physical contact with anyone all week, and I normally lead a high-snuggle lifestyle. :)
I used to lead a high-snuggle lifestyle, but my husband has developed a large number of musculo-skeletal problems, to the extent that getting him into a condition where he can snuggle without prohibitive amounts of pain is only slightly simpler than negotiating lasting peace in the Middle East. I'm chronically snuggle-deprived, and it makes me cranky.
So, I hear you! I hope your sunburn goes away soon.
They've put a brassiere on the camel, She wasn't dressed proper, you know. They've put a brassiere on the camel, So that her humps wouldn't show. And they're making other respectable plans, They're even insisting that pigs should wear pants, They'll dress up the ducks if we give them a chance Since they've put a brassiere on the camel.
They've put a brassiere on the camel, They claim she's more decent this way. They've put a brassiere on the camel, The camel had nothing to say. They squeezed her into it, I'll never know how, They say that she looks more respectable now, Lord knows what they've got in mind for the cow, Since they've put a brassiere on the camel.
The trees along this city street, Save for the traffic and the trains, Would make a sound as thin and sweet As trees in country lanes.
And people standing in their shade Out of a shower, undoubtedly Would hear such music as is made Upon a country tree.
Oh, little leaves that are so dumb Against the shrieking city air, I watch you when the wind has come,- I know what sound is there.
Summer Song (William Carlos Williams)
Wanderer moon smiling a faintly ironical smile at this brilliant, dew-moistened summer morning,- a detached sleepily indifferent smile, a wanderer's smile,- if I should buy a shirt your color and put on a necktie sky-blue where would they carry me?
Comments 53
He's a priest.
The two-l llama,
He's a beast.
And I will bet
A silk pajama
There isn't any
Three-l lllama.*
-- Ogden Nash
(*to which Nash appended the footnote "The author's attention has been called to a type of conflagration known as a three-alarmer. Pooh.")
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Hug O' War, a poem by the late Shel Silverstein
I will not play at tug o' war
I'd rather play at hug o' war,
Where everyone hugs
Instead of tugs
Where everyone giggles
And rolls on the rug,
Where everyone kisses
And everyone grins
And everyone cuddles
And everyone wins.
Reply
What's going on, sweetie, that you need a hug?
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I used to lead a high-snuggle lifestyle, but my husband has developed a large number of musculo-skeletal problems, to the extent that getting him into a condition where he can snuggle without prohibitive amounts of pain is only slightly simpler than negotiating lasting peace in the Middle East. I'm chronically snuggle-deprived, and it makes me cranky.
So, I hear you! I hope your sunburn goes away soon.
Reply
They've put a brassiere on the camel,
She wasn't dressed proper, you know.
They've put a brassiere on the camel,
So that her humps wouldn't show.
And they're making other respectable plans,
They're even insisting that pigs should wear pants,
They'll dress up the ducks if we give them a chance
Since they've put a brassiere on the camel.
They've put a brassiere on the camel,
They claim she's more decent this way.
They've put a brassiere on the camel,
The camel had nothing to say.
They squeezed her into it, I'll never know how,
They say that she looks more respectable now,
Lord knows what they've got in mind for the cow,
Since they've put a brassiere on the camel.
-- Shel Silverstein
Reply
(Edna St Vincent Millay)
The trees along this city street,
Save for the traffic and the trains,
Would make a sound as thin and sweet
As trees in country lanes.
And people standing in their shade
Out of a shower, undoubtedly
Would hear such music as is made
Upon a country tree.
Oh, little leaves that are so dumb
Against the shrieking city air,
I watch you when the wind has come,-
I know what sound is there.
Summer Song
(William Carlos Williams)
Wanderer moon
smiling a
faintly ironical smile
at this
brilliant, dew-moistened
summer morning,-
a detached
sleepily indifferent
smile, a
wanderer's smile,-
if I should
buy a shirt
your color and
put on a necktie
sky-blue
where would they carry me?
Reply
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