Tony Crafter

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Original text in yellow, anagram in pink.

I WISH I COULD SHIMMY LIKE MY SISTER KATE
By
Frances Faye

I went to a dance with my sister Kate
Everybody there thought she danced so great
I realized a thing or two
When I got wise to something new

When I looked at Kate, she was in a trance
And then I knew it was in her dance
All the boys are going wild
Over sister Katie's style

Oh, I wish I could I shimmy like my sister Kate
She shimmies like a jelly on a plate
My mama wanted to know last night
What makes the boys think Kate's so nice

Now all the boys in the neighborhood
They know that she can shimmy and it's understood
I know that I'm late, but I'll be up-to-date
When I shimmy like my sister Kate
I mean, when I shimmy like my sister Kate

Now I can shimmy like my sister Kate
I know that I'm real late
I think I'll do a real shimmy dance
Dancing like my sister Kate
Sweet papa, just like my sister Kate

I WISH I COULD MARRY LIKE MY SISTER KATE
Miss P. Middleton

I went to a wedding with my sister Kate,
Everyone thought we looked oh so great,
The one teeny thing to rain on my parade?
She was the bride and I was the maid!

When I saw my sis' walking down the aisle,
I could only salute her style,
Kate now has this nice, neat name:
She is a Duchess, yet I'm just a dame.

I wish I could marry like my sister Kate,
Katie's tied the knot with a royal mate,
Ma, she thinks I may soon be hooked,
Westminster Abbey she's already booked!

Now I'm a major hit, I share Kate's fame!
Stylists like me and my slinky frame,
I've gone global I can take my pick,
Many men think I'm the hottest chick,
Many men think I'm the hottest chick.

Now I will twinkle like my sister Kate,
Ha! Who wants the Royal Willy as a mate?
When Katie is kissing the potential king,
I'll be the sister with celebrity zing!

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WARNING
By
Jenny Joseph

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick the flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

SHREDDED PLANS
By
Anon.

When I was a lad, I had such plans. Endless plans!
I'd be a rock star and appear on stage to wild applause.
And dispense autographs and largesse with a benign smile
And not let success change me or turn my head;
I'd have splendid mansions and bevies of beauties
To pamper me and indulge my every whim.
And, as if this were not enough, I'd be a sportsman;
Not any old sportsman but a proper Olympian,
A champion runner, boxer and bobsledder;
I'd pen the odd novel, sponsor schemes;
And leave my mark on history...! What happened?
I joined a bank.

Naturally, the job was only short-term;
A precursor to the intended endless plans,
It was a case of when, not if, I'd trek
Across the world. Next year perhaps?

I got married in my twenties. Still time to
Do the trek; but how about the mortgage?
We could rent the house and simply push off, I suppose.
But now dinner's ready. We'll talk later.

Thirty-four years, and two grown up children later...
No fame. No world trekking. No running.
And now they won't happen.
Oh, well...
At least I found anagrams.

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ANARCHY IN THE UK
By
The Sex Pistols

Right! NOW! ha ha

I am an anti-christ
I am an anarchist
Don't know what I want but
I know how to get it
I wanna destroy the passer by cos I

I wanna BE anarchy!
No dogs body!

Anarchy for the U.K it's coming sometime and maybe
I give a wrong time stop a traffic line
your future dream is a shopping scheme

cos I, I wanna BE anarchy!
In the city

How many ways to get what you want
I use the best I use the rest
I use the enemy
I use anarchy cos I

I wanna BE anarchy!
THE ONLY WAY TO BE!

Is this the M.P.L.A
Or is this the U.D.A
Or is this the I.R.A
I thought it was the U.K or just
another country
another council tenancy

I wanna be anarchy
and I wanna be anarchy
Know what I mean
And I wanna be anarchist!
Get PISSED DESTROY!

BURNIN' UP THE CITY
By
Trash

Hi! Hi! ... I'm here!

I am an urban Brit
I am on benefits
I know what I want and
I know how ta get it
You smash a window of a shop.

Take what ya want; a new PC
A mobile phone, flat-screen TV

Anarchy in the streets, riotin', yeah, tauntin' police,
They can't do anythin' to me,
Cos I got Human Rights ya see.

I'm an urban shark, watch me...
BURN THE CITY!

So many ways ta get what ya want
Join a gang, who ya can
Hang about with, meet

And hit da streets!

Burn a car, rob a stranger
LAUNCH YOURSELF INTO DANGER!

Is this red wine I see?
Or is it a Scotch Whisky
Or is it cissy sherry
Ha! who cares about this,
Nick some, run away, get pissed!

Yo! It's excitin' no cash paid
No need to hide away
We're in this union
Unseen by anyone
Ha, ha ha! YOU CAN'T CATCH ME!

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ANTARCTICA
By
Derek Mahon

'I am just going outside and may be some time.'
The others nod, pretending not to know.
At the heart of the ridiculous, the sublime.

He leaves them reading and begins to climb,
Goading his ghost into the howling snow;
He is just going outside and may be some time.

The tent recedes beneath its crust of rime
And frostbite is replaced by vertigo:
At the heart of the ridiculous, the sublime.

Need we consider it some sort of crime,
This numb self-sacrifice of the weakest? No,
He is just going outside and may be some time.

In fact, for ever. Solitary enzyme,
Though the night yield no glimmer there will glow,
At the heart of the ridiculous, the sublime.

He takes leave of the earthly pantomime
Quietly knowing it is time to go.
'I am just going outside and may be some time.'
At the heart of the ridiculous, the sublime.

THE ULTIMATE ENGLISH HERO
(On L.E. Oates' Demise)


Wilson, Bowers, Evans, Oates, Scott,
Make that final surge for the South Pole.
Will they be first to get there... or not?

They reach their goal in seventy-nine days;
But delight becomes gloom, finding Amundsen's tent...
The note inside it confirming their fear... He beat them by thirty-five days.

Their mission is hijacked, a huge hammer blow
To a million dreams, lying dead in the snow.
Dear God, the fatigue! Time to quit. Time to go.

The men trek back; dazed, cold, hungry, weak.
En route, Evans dies with a head injury;
Oates is hurt, bleeding, frostbite in both feet.

The group must go on though, must go on or die!
But Oates, semi-mobile, succumbs to his guilt:
"I'm just going outside, I may be some time."

His choice - the ultimate sacrifice.
The last three men, just a few miles from camp,
Are doomed to die in the ice.

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ROUTE 66
By
The Rolling Stones

Well if you ever plan to motor west
Just take my way that's the highway that's the best
Get your kicks on Route 66
Well it winds from Chicago to L.A.
More than two-thousand miles all the way
Get your kicks on Route 66

Well it goes from St Louis, down to Missouri
Oklahoma city looks oh so pretty
You'll see Amarillo and Gallup, New Mexico
Flagstaff, Arizona don't forget Winona
Kingsman, Barstow, San Bernadino

Would you get hip to this kindly tip
And go take that California trip
Get your kicks on Route 66
Well it goes from St. Louis, down to Missouri
Oklahoma city looks oh so pretty
You'll see Amarillo and Gallup, New Mexico
Flagstaff, Arizona don't forget Winona
Kingsman, Barstow, San Bernadino

Would you get hip to this kindly trip
And go take that California trip
Get your kicks on Route 66
Get your kicks on Route 66

WRINKLY GLOOM AT 66
Rusty Bones

You will find, folks, as you get on in years
All your parts start to shrink (except the ears)
No more kicks, at mid 66.
When you walk, you're aware of a strange wheeze,
Is it age or a fatal lung disease?
No more kicks, at mid 66.

You may go down with flu or pop to the loo more,
Wallow in your pity at reflux city,
So long in the tooth now, longin' for your youth now,
Recalling all those chances, wasted at school dances,
(Also in a telephone booth... truth!)

Your back locks when walking in a park,
You cough and it sounds just like a bark,
It's the pits, at mid 66.
Getting old, it's a bummer, losing life's Summer,
Stark, foggy days, off walkin in a daze,
Talkin' to the old gents, gripin' 'bout your ailments.
Prostate, foot-rot, ringworm, liver-spots.

Look out, you don't know what it will hit,
It's too late to go all out to get fit;
No more kicks, at mid 66,
I forgot... am I 66?

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Updated: May 10, 2016


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