The Listeners
killer_llamas here.
Hello, our fans.
You may remember that we like to write a parody now and then. The Hag tells us this is because we are incapable of writing our own verse and therefore have to 'steal' it from other people.
She knows nothing.
But then, she is not a poet and she cannot be expected to understand us artistic types.
We have a community called parody-city for this very purpose. Please feel free to join it. it ineeds new life and you would be welcome. We would like to write more for it but we are so overworked looking after the lazy woman here that it is all we can do to drag ourselves up the attic stairs at night before we fall asleep. We are only allowed two hours sleep before the Hag wakes us again.
Please join our community!! Even if it is just to shut us up. But we know that many of you are talented writers and we think you might get some enjoyment, challenge and amusement from it. It can be a parody of a poem or a song. All we ask is that you post the original lyrics/words first as that usually ultimately makes it funnier. Please do this behind an LJ cut.
We are serious.
We recently wrote a parody which we are going to post here and in the community. It is, of course, very good. You may or may not have heard of a poem called 'The Listeners' by Walter de la Mare. This is 'The LLamas' by Walter de le LLama.The only person who has read it so far is GHag. She was very moved and impressed by it, such that she wrote us a fan letter. We have to say that we had made an error in giving her the link to the English to AOL translator and she sent us a 'fan letter' which she ran through the translator first:
"DEAERST LMACI2S
I CANT TEL U HOW MUCH I 3NJOYED UR WOND3RFUL PARODY OF DA LISTEN3RS - U R TEH MOST WONDARFUL POATS!!111!!1!1! I HAEV 2 T3L U TAHT IM MOST D3FINIETLEY UR NUMBR ONA FAN!!!!!!1!!1!!!1 OMG UR WIT UR ELOQUENC3 UR WONDARFUL WAY WIT WORDS .!!!11!11111!!1!11 WTF LOL I CUD GO ON AND ON LMACI2S!!!11!1!!1!! OMG WTF LOL PLZ L3T ME KNOW IF U WIL B DONG ANY PERFORMANCA PO3TRY READNGS IN MAH AERA SON??!??!!?!?!!!??! OMG LOL I DO HOP3 SO!
WITH!!!1111!!11!1!1! OMG LOL LUV AND U IN AEW AND WONDER
GHAG XXXXXXXXXXX"
It left us feeling a bit disturbed. We got a fright and one of us fainted, rather like the time the Hag cut her hair in the bathroom without telling us (which, we might add, she has also done tonight).
Anyway, without further ado..
As you know, we have an extremely hard life doing all the cleaning up and washing dishes for the Hag. We like to use Shake 'n' Vac, a white powder (no not cocaine, although we wish it was sometimes) when hoovering the carpet. It leaves a a nice scent of freshness in the air and we just love doing it.
No we are not losers. Anyway here in the UK, it's called shake 'n' vac. Shakes onto the floor, hoover it up and voilaaaaaaaaaaaa! Much of our life revolves around cleaning the Hag's house, so this poem came out to express some of our inner enragement. Original first.
The Listeners
by Walter De La Mare
‘Is there anybody there?’ said the Traveller,
Knocking on the moonlit door;
And his horse in the silence champed the grasses
Of the forest’s ferny floor:
And a bird flew up out of the turret,
Above the Traveller’s head:
And he smote upon the door again a second time;
‘Is there anybody there?’ he said.
But no one descended to the Traveller;
No head from the leaf-fringed sill
Leaned over and looked into his grey eyes,
Where he stood perplexed and still.
But only a host of phantom listeners
That dwelt in the lone house then
Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight
To that voice from the world of men:
Stood thronging the faint moonbeams on the dark stair,
That goes down to the empty hall,
Hearkening in an air stirred and shaken
By the lonely Traveller’s call.
And he felt in his heart their strangeness,
Their stillness answering his cry,
While his horse moved, cropping the dark turf,
’Neath the starred and leafy sky;
For he suddenly smote on the door, even
Louder, and lifted his head:-
‘Tell them I came, and no one answered,
That I kept my word,’ he said.
Never the least stir made the listeners,
Though every word he spake
Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house
From the one man left awake:
Ay, they heard his foot upon the stirrup,
And the sound of iron on stone,
And how the silence surged softly backward,
When the plunging hoofs were gone.
© Walter de la Mare
THE LLAMAS by Walter De La LLama
‘Is there anymore shake ‘n’ vac?’ asked the Llama,
Looking into the kitchen cupboard;
While his alpaca, in the drama, buggered off to the pub
Ignoring his master’s sudden crisis:
And a lemur fell from a tree,
Above the Llama’s head:
And he voiced it again, louder this time;
‘Is there anymore shake ‘n’ vac?’ he said.
But no voice came back to the Llama;
No Hag from her hot pink bedroom
Leaned out and answered his plea
Where he stood, dazed and confused.
But only a host of phantom badgers
That hid in the hallway cupboard
Sat laughing, with silent spiteful stripes
To that bleat from the world of white dummies:
Sat basking in the lavender smelling cupboard,
That had two candles lit within,
Soothing in the cool and pleasant air
Unbothered by the Llama’s dilemma.
And the Llama felt their stripey presence,
Their laughter mocking his panic,
While his alpaca was long gone, drunk and disorderly,
In the Alpaca Pub, with the jukebox on;
For the Llama suddenly yelled, even
Louder, and felt himself enraged:-
‘Tell the Hag I tried to hoover,
That I looked for more shake ‘n’ vac,’ he said.
Never the least stir made the badgers
Though every word the Llama spoke
Echoed heavily in the draughty hallway
From the one animal exposed and alone:
Yes, the badgers heard the Llama,
And the sound of his hooves on the floor,
And how silence came back peacefully,
When the Llama spoke no more.
© 2009 THE LLAMAS
Fanmail to killer.llamas@gmail.com
Hello, our fans.
You may remember that we like to write a parody now and then. The Hag tells us this is because we are incapable of writing our own verse and therefore have to 'steal' it from other people.
She knows nothing.
But then, she is not a poet and she cannot be expected to understand us artistic types.
We have a community called parody-city for this very purpose. Please feel free to join it. it ineeds new life and you would be welcome. We would like to write more for it but we are so overworked looking after the lazy woman here that it is all we can do to drag ourselves up the attic stairs at night before we fall asleep. We are only allowed two hours sleep before the Hag wakes us again.
Please join our community!! Even if it is just to shut us up. But we know that many of you are talented writers and we think you might get some enjoyment, challenge and amusement from it. It can be a parody of a poem or a song. All we ask is that you post the original lyrics/words first as that usually ultimately makes it funnier. Please do this behind an LJ cut.
We are serious.
We recently wrote a parody which we are going to post here and in the community. It is, of course, very good. You may or may not have heard of a poem called 'The Listeners' by Walter de la Mare. This is 'The LLamas' by Walter de le LLama.The only person who has read it so far is GHag. She was very moved and impressed by it, such that she wrote us a fan letter. We have to say that we had made an error in giving her the link to the English to AOL translator and she sent us a 'fan letter' which she ran through the translator first:
"DEAERST LMACI2S
I CANT TEL U HOW MUCH I 3NJOYED UR WOND3RFUL PARODY OF DA LISTEN3RS - U R TEH MOST WONDARFUL POATS!!111!!1!1! I HAEV 2 T3L U TAHT IM MOST D3FINIETLEY UR NUMBR ONA FAN!!!!!!1!!1!!!1 OMG UR WIT UR ELOQUENC3 UR WONDARFUL WAY WIT WORDS .!!!11!11111!!1!11 WTF LOL I CUD GO ON AND ON LMACI2S!!!11!1!!1!! OMG WTF LOL PLZ L3T ME KNOW IF U WIL B DONG ANY PERFORMANCA PO3TRY READNGS IN MAH AERA SON??!??!!?!?!!!??! OMG LOL I DO HOP3 SO!
WITH!!!1111!!11!1!1! OMG LOL LUV AND U IN AEW AND WONDER
GHAG XXXXXXXXXXX"
It left us feeling a bit disturbed. We got a fright and one of us fainted, rather like the time the Hag cut her hair in the bathroom without telling us (which, we might add, she has also done tonight).
Anyway, without further ado..
As you know, we have an extremely hard life doing all the cleaning up and washing dishes for the Hag. We like to use Shake 'n' Vac, a white powder (no not cocaine, although we wish it was sometimes) when hoovering the carpet. It leaves a a nice scent of freshness in the air and we just love doing it.
No we are not losers. Anyway here in the UK, it's called shake 'n' vac. Shakes onto the floor, hoover it up and voilaaaaaaaaaaaa! Much of our life revolves around cleaning the Hag's house, so this poem came out to express some of our inner enragement. Original first.
The Listeners
by Walter De La Mare
‘Is there anybody there?’ said the Traveller,
Knocking on the moonlit door;
And his horse in the silence champed the grasses
Of the forest’s ferny floor:
And a bird flew up out of the turret,
Above the Traveller’s head:
And he smote upon the door again a second time;
‘Is there anybody there?’ he said.
But no one descended to the Traveller;
No head from the leaf-fringed sill
Leaned over and looked into his grey eyes,
Where he stood perplexed and still.
But only a host of phantom listeners
That dwelt in the lone house then
Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight
To that voice from the world of men:
Stood thronging the faint moonbeams on the dark stair,
That goes down to the empty hall,
Hearkening in an air stirred and shaken
By the lonely Traveller’s call.
And he felt in his heart their strangeness,
Their stillness answering his cry,
While his horse moved, cropping the dark turf,
’Neath the starred and leafy sky;
For he suddenly smote on the door, even
Louder, and lifted his head:-
‘Tell them I came, and no one answered,
That I kept my word,’ he said.
Never the least stir made the listeners,
Though every word he spake
Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house
From the one man left awake:
Ay, they heard his foot upon the stirrup,
And the sound of iron on stone,
And how the silence surged softly backward,
When the plunging hoofs were gone.
© Walter de la Mare
THE LLAMAS by Walter De La LLama
‘Is there anymore shake ‘n’ vac?’ asked the Llama,
Looking into the kitchen cupboard;
While his alpaca, in the drama, buggered off to the pub
Ignoring his master’s sudden crisis:
And a lemur fell from a tree,
Above the Llama’s head:
And he voiced it again, louder this time;
‘Is there anymore shake ‘n’ vac?’ he said.
But no voice came back to the Llama;
No Hag from her hot pink bedroom
Leaned out and answered his plea
Where he stood, dazed and confused.
But only a host of phantom badgers
That hid in the hallway cupboard
Sat laughing, with silent spiteful stripes
To that bleat from the world of white dummies:
Sat basking in the lavender smelling cupboard,
That had two candles lit within,
Soothing in the cool and pleasant air
Unbothered by the Llama’s dilemma.
And the Llama felt their stripey presence,
Their laughter mocking his panic,
While his alpaca was long gone, drunk and disorderly,
In the Alpaca Pub, with the jukebox on;
For the Llama suddenly yelled, even
Louder, and felt himself enraged:-
‘Tell the Hag I tried to hoover,
That I looked for more shake ‘n’ vac,’ he said.
Never the least stir made the badgers
Though every word the Llama spoke
Echoed heavily in the draughty hallway
From the one animal exposed and alone:
Yes, the badgers heard the Llama,
And the sound of his hooves on the floor,
And how silence came back peacefully,
When the Llama spoke no more.
© 2009 THE LLAMAS
Fanmail to killer.llamas@gmail.com