Getting back on topic

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You old decapod you.

Jarlr'mai (jarlrmai), Sunday, 3 April 2005 13:40 (nineteen years ago) link

As the dancer said to the Bishop.

Zen Clown (Zen Clown), Sunday, 3 April 2005 16:21 (nineteen years ago) link

Does anyone have a copy of that marvelous poem by that marvelous Canadian poet, Robert Service, called, I belive, "The shooting of Dan MaGrew." Due to my failing mind, I can't remember anything but Poe's "Raven" but I have that Canadian poem dancing on the edges of my memory:

"A bunch of boys were whooping it up in one of those Yukon halls. The kid who handled the musicbox was steadly scratching his balls." etc.

I have an alvacado sitting on my desk. It isn't ripe yet. I'm waiting.


Zen Clown (Zen Clown), Sunday, 3 April 2005 21:40 (nineteen years ago) link

The Shooting of Dan McGrew

A bunch of the boys were whooping it up in the Malamute saloon;
The kid that handles the music-box was hitting a rag-time tune;
Back of the bar, in a solo game, sat Dangerous Dan McGrew,
And watching his luck was his light-o'-love, the lady that's known as Lou.
When out of the night, which was fifty below, and into the din and glare,
There stumbled a miner fresh from the creeks, dog-dirty, and loaded for bear.
He looked like a man with a foot in the grave and scarcely the strength of a louse,
Yet he tilted a poke of dust on the bar, and he called for drinks for the house.
There was none could place the stranger's face, though we searched ourselves for a clue;
But we drank his health, and the last to drink was Dangerous Dan McGrew.
There's men that somehow just grip your eyes, and hold them hard like a spell;
And such was he, and he looked to me like a man who had lived in hell;
With a face most hair, and the dreary stare of a dog whose day is done,
As he watered the green stuff in his glass, and the drops fell one by one.
Then I got to figgering who he was, and wondering what he'd do,
And I turned my head — and there watching him was the lady that's known as Lou.
His eyes went rubbering round the room, and he seemed in a kind of daze,
Till at last that old piano fell in the way of his wandering gaze.
The rag-time kid was having a drink; there was no one else on the stool,
So the stranger stumbles across the room, and flops down there like a fool.
In a buckskin shirt that was glazed with dirt he sat, and I saw him sway,
Then he clutched the keys with his talon hands — my God! but that man could play.
Were you ever out in the Great Alone, when the moon was awful clear,
And the icy mountains hemmed you in with a silence you most could hear;
With only the howl of a timber wolf, and you camped there in the cold,
A helf-dead thing in a stark, dead world, clean mad for the muck called gold;
While high overhead, green, yellow, and red, the North Lights swept in bars? —
Then you've a hunch what the music meant . . . hunger and might and the stars.
And hunger not of the belly kind, that's banished with bacon and beans,
But the gnawing hunger of lonely men for a home and all that it means;
For a fireside far from the cares that are, four walls and a roof above;
But oh! so cramful of cosy joy, and crowded with a woman's love —
A woman dearer than all the world, and true as Heaven is true —
(God! how ghastly she looks through her rouge, — the lady that's known as Lou.)
Then on a sudden the music changed, so soft that you scarce could hear;
But you felt that your life had been looted clean of all that it once held dear;
That someone had stolen the woman you loved; that her love was a devil's lie;
That your guts were gone, and the best for you was to crawl away and die.
'Twas the crowning cry of a heart's despair, and it thrilled you through and through —
"I guess I'll make it a spread misere," said Dangerous Dan McGrew.
The music almost dies away . . . then it burst like a pent-up flood;
And it seemed to say, "Repay, repay," and my eyes were blind with blood.
The thought came back of an ancient wrong, and it stung like a frozen lash,
And the lust awoke to kill, to kill . . . then the music stopped with a crash,
And the stranger turned, and his eyes they burned in a most peculiar way;
In a buckskin shirt that was glazed with dirt he sat, and I saw him sway;
Then his lips went in in a kind of grin, and he spoke, and his voice was calm,
And "Boys," says he, "you don't know me, and none of you care a damn;
But I want to state, and my words are straight, and I'll bet my poke they're true,
That one of you is a hound of hell . . . and that one is Dan McGrew."
Then I ducked my head and the lights went out, and two guns blazed in the dark;
And a woman screamed, and the lights went up, and two men lay stiff and stark.
Pitched on his head, and pumped full of lead, was Dangerous Dan McGrew,
While the man from the creeks lay clutched to the breast of the lady that's known as Lou.
These are the simple facts of the case, and I guess I ought to know.
They say that the stranger was crazed with "hooch," and I'm not denying it's so.
I'm not so wise as the lawyer guys, but strictly between us two —
The woman that kissed him — and pinched his poke — was the lady known as Lou.

C J (C J), Monday, 4 April 2005 03:26 (nineteen years ago) link

Google is my friend.

C J (C J), Monday, 4 April 2005 03:26 (nineteen years ago) link

Decapod,decapod...Methinks Jim has a crustacean fixation. I wish I had tenticles. Heck...Even nineticles...What am I saying? I had my testicles disconnected 30 years ago.

CJ? Don't read this. It's verging on nastyness. Parker is a nasty man. I know where he sleeps. I'll tell you where he is if you want to go over there and slap him. Slap him with a cold carp. That'll bring him 'round.

Zen Clown (Zen Clown), Monday, 4 April 2005 04:04 (nineteen years ago) link

Re: The Shooting of Dan McGrew

Although the proper rendition is probably bawdy enough, I was looking for the perverted version.

"He pulled out his cock, displayed it to the flock, and everyone's asshole squirmed..."

If you think THAT'S bad you ought to see what Aimless can do to Shakespeare.

"To be or not to be..." By the time he finished, I was traumatized.

"Friends,Romans and Countrymen. Lend me your ears..." Lord. You won't BELIVE what he did to that.

Aimless has no respect. No respect at all.

"By the shores of Gitchygoomy, won't you come and sock it to me."? No shame. The man has no shame. The only person I am aware of who is as despicable as Aimless is Dude Steel.

"Once upon a midnight dreary..." You ought to see what Dude did with THAT. It's not anything to be repeated in the company of ladies.

Horrible. These people are horrible. Jeeze.

Zen Clown (Zen Clown), Monday, 4 April 2005 04:56 (nineteen years ago) link

Horrible, yes, but such good company you would choose no other. Who here professes to be the ladies? It is impossible to see the dangly bits, so gender-guessing is pointless indulgence.

MSW, Monday, 4 April 2005 19:22 (nineteen years ago) link

It is impossible to see the dangly bits

MSW, please! You'll only encourage the Clown to DROP HIS TROUSERS.

M. White (Miguelito), Monday, 4 April 2005 20:19 (nineteen years ago) link

That is exactly what caused his last heart attack.... trying to drop his trousers.

He started to pull down his zipper and it wouldn't budge so he pulled harder and harder and faster and faster and faster and faster and suddenly he felt this sudden building pressure and an urge to release so he pulled harder and faster still yet.

That was when he realized that his zipper was already in the lowered stated and that he was holding onto something else. (about the same size as a zipper fob)(poor guy)(poor lady that he was married to is more like it)

He startled himself so bad that he almost died from embarassment, literally.

I know that I promised not to tell that to anyone Zen but if your gonna talk about my dreams then I'm gonna talk about your reality.

еdë §téè£, Monday, 4 April 2005 21:44 (nineteen years ago) link

You cannot tell us a story like that and not divulge whether his (so called) penis got to sneeze before his heart valves went tits-up.

MSW, Tuesday, 5 April 2005 19:09 (nineteen years ago) link


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