Hello! Would you like to see some more Babelfishing Poetry, where I take song lyrics, run them through an on-line translator such as (but not necessarily) Babelfish, mix up the punctuation a bit, and wind up with a quirky kind of poem? You would? Well gee willikers, you're in luck, because here it is!
This week's song is the traditional (and my favorite) cowboy ballad "I Ride An Old Paint" (listen to Woody Guthrie sing the song here, or listen to the version by Tim O'Brien and the Two Oceans Trio here, or listen to Johnny Cash's rendition here, or listen to a post-modern yet haunting and poignant instrumental arrangement of the song by Van Dyke Parks here, or listen to perhaps the weirdest video of the song, the Norman Luboff Choir singing it against a backdrop of someone's fish tank (because we all think of tropical fish when we think of cowboys, don't we?), here). Enjoy.
Department Of Space Oil
Lead pigment of Denmark, old and ancient.
Montana, throw holihan; go, bid the soldiers shoot.
Water, exer-safe interest rate.
End of the universe, favor lion's child tail after Department of Space Oil made the rear weapons.
Old ratio Kafr El-dawwar. Woman child, Monday on Monday.
E attended the University of Can't.
All columns must be free, and he beheaded him in battle.
But on the third morning of the night he came to sing.
"I know not the die wall," mold said.
Pony, natural roots according to the engine room.
Not a hair on the back and the West locked up.
Why the drain in his city?
Skin meat free optional mountain national scenic area of free capacity building discussion.
Foot blisters, skin, and my hand, hard.
Enjoy large state of holihan air.
They climb slowly around dogies, around a little,
those unwilling and hostile.