Hello! Are you looking forward to the weekend? Me too. I am also looking forward to a resolution to my prescription refill, which is still pending as I type. No one in the doctor's office can tell me what's going on or why the delay has been so ridiculously prolonged, even though they know I am about to run out. Sigh. Anywho, while I wait, let's enjoy some more Babelfishing poetry, where I take song lyrics, run them through an on-line translator such as (but not necessarily) Babelfish, play around with the punctuation a bit, and wind up with a quirky kind of poem.
This week's song is Harry McClintock's "Big Rock Candy Mountain" (listen to McClintock's version here, or listen to white-bread, squeaky-clean vocal group New Christy Minstrels sing the song here, or listen to a lively rendition by cowpunk band The Beat Farmers here, or listen to Lisa Loeb's gentle folky version here, or listen to the uniquely-named Muck Sticky's minimalist (and rather ominous) interpretation here, or hear British street-punk band The Restarts pile-drive their way through the song (but watch out for a couple of F-bombs) here). Enjoy.
Not Surprisingly More Than Paula
One night, when the sun sets on fire,
signs-smoke, travel and children, and each other,
I will go and water the earth colors.
Large stones of the discipline of the mountain.
A large stone mountain Paula beauty and splendor of the wise,
it was the Ministry of the Waves of Sleep every night.
Sun each day, and design
of birds and bees to protect forests.
Where is the rich lemon juice bluebird?
The large field of stone mountain.
The whole store, and the children all full of grass.
Oh, I am Friday? I wasn't aware of that.
If the wind was blowing, the rain doesn't.
Discipline of large stones.
Change your socks, Grand Rocky Grove Mountains.
But wine is found in the flowing water rocks.
Stay in bed, I am each day
a department of mountain increments.
Autumn in a large Stone Mountain, not surprisingly more than Paula.