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, have a bit of fun with the punctuation, and wind up with a quirky kind of poem? You would? Well hot diggity, you're in luck, because here it is!
This week's feature is the folk song "Shortnin' Bread" (listen to bluesman Mississippi John Hurt's gentle, folksy version here, or listen to 60s garage band Johnny and The Uncalled Four's version here, or listen to garage-punkers The Cramps plow through a coarse surfabilly rendition here, or watch video by country-rockers The Tractors here, or listen to jazz pianist Fats Waller's swingin' interpretation here, or listen to The Dave Brubeck Quartet (mostly drummer Joe Morello) here, or listen to jazz bassist Charles Mingus's sprawling, mind-bending 28-minute fantasia incorporating the song here). Enjoy.
Baking Like A Mother
But Baby Mama!
Little baby cupcakes, baking like a mother!
Three children's beds.
I beseech you to eat it.
Beds for children?
I've heard about some bread.
It bounced back to the beginning, reading
the pigeon wing portion of the room.
Mom is some bread.
It is when you go to
mom to cook cocoa.
1 kitchen door grabbed the map.
Only good food, I am all packed in the interior of my clothing.
Mute, and said to them, "My trumpet."
Mel, I reduce the amount of bread.
The bank held.
Hold the door.
Bread in his mouth will soon move
for six months, and half of the World Bank,
six months to eat bread.
Mama's little baby fine, love.
Little mama love bread baby speed.