Foster’s Old Black Joe (Fragment)
Brooks Brothers,
Brooks Brothers!
Though your price is none
too low,
You sell me stuff not fit
to clothe
A two-bit ho'.
Yankee Doodle
New York went to Boston Town
And up against the Red Sox,
And there they played like
nine old men
In PJs, robes and bedsocks.
Yankees blew the Pennant
Race;
Yankees blew the Series.
Now, to save their silly
face,
They'll bore us all with
theories.
McCarthy's Bonnie Blue Flag
We must protect the kiddies—
The tender little tots—
Sanitizing violence
In cinematic plots;
But should they turn a classic
To mushy Mallomar®,
Then that is when
the Thought Police
Will go a bit too far.
Too far, too far,
The prigs 'll go too far:
A re-make of Bonnie and
Clyde
Without a single scar!
I don't know how they did
it,
But somehow it was done:
Bonnie Parker buys it, but—
We never see a gun.
The final burst of bullets
Is hidden by the car;
But when the picture fades
to pink,
They go too bloody far!
Too far, too far, &c.
Farewell to Warren Beatty!
Farewell to Arthur Penn!
Censorship has done away
With freedom-loving men.
The Fewest and the Proudest
Are killed in Kandahar
To make the World a Safer
Place
For prigs who go too far.
Too far, too far, &c.
Rowland's and Rice's, or Walden's, Mademoiselle from
Armentières
What is the meal that always
cheers?
Barbecue!
What is the dish that has
no peers?
Barbecue!
Butcher a half a dozen steers
And eat till it’s coming
out your ears—
Icky, sticky barbecue!
Brisket of beef and baby
back
Barbecue;
Succulent, sweet and carbon
black
Barbecue;
Make it a feast, and not
a snack,
And eat till you get a heart
attack—
Ooey, gooey barbecue!
This is the peptic protocol:
Barbecue!
Better for you than vitriol—
Barbecue.
Gobble the bad cholesterol—
And do it with lots of alcohol:
Easy, greasy barbecue!
Foster's Camptown Races
"A.N. Wilson is a shit"
(Doodoo! Doodoo!).
Betjeman took an awful hit;
Sing: "Oodoo-day!"
Swine to Wilson's right;
Swine to Wilson's left:
I'll bet a nickel it's a
Hillier hoax;
Nobody's quite so deft.
Foster's Old Black Joe
Gone are the days
Of the 60-second spot;
Gone are the ads
That could get me downright
hot.
Gone are my dreams
Of seducing 99;
I'm fast approaching something
known as
Life's Decline.
I'm ancient, archaic,
For I'm past the big 5-0;
But I'm convinced that Barb'ra
Feldon
Beats J-Lo.
Emmett's Dixie Land
Why do Broadway musicals
appear so rotten?
Old Times Square is long
forgotten.
And the
blame for the shame is the lame Disney fare.
Whether Disney's nominated
for a Tony™—
Win or lose—it's still
baloney,
'Cause the name of the game
is the same Disney fare.
I've had my fill of Disney,
okay? Okay?
If
Disneyland is dull and bland, you ain't seen half of Disney.
It's tame. It's lame. It's shameless pap from Disney.
No Mame—no Fame—just
aimless crap from Disney.
Dumb it down, to cater to
the Friends Of Mickey;
No big words, and nothin’
tricky
Is the
goal and the role of the ol' Disney game.
Build a score of Reddi-wip™
and old marshmallow;
Hallmark™ rhymes—and
keep it shallow;
Use the whole sugar
bowl in the ol’ Disney game.
Is wit reborn with Disney?
No way, José!
Cole
Porter’s dead and Coward’s fled before the tripe of the Disney.
If Noel is droll, it cuts
no ice with Disney.
Does Cole have soul?—it
don’t mean squat to Disney.
