Deteriorata - National Lampoon 1972
from https://web.archive.org/web/20150511234144/http://www.joke-archives.com/poetry/deteriorata.html
(You are a fluke of the universe.
You have no right to be here.
Deteriorata, Deteriorata)
Go placidly amidst the noise and waste, and remember what comfort there may be in owning a piece thereof. Avoid quiet and passive persons, unless you are in need of sleep. Rotate your tires. Speak glowingly of those greater than yourself; and heed well their advice, even though they be turkeys. Know what to kiss - and when. Consider that two wrongs never make a right, but that three do. Wherever possible, put people on hold. Be comforted, that in the face of all irridity and disillusionment, and despite the changing fortunes of time, there is always a big future in computer maintenance.
(You are a fluke of the universe.
You have no right to be here.
Whether you can hear it or not,
The universe is laughing behind your back.)
Remember the Pueblo. Strive at all times to bend, fold, spindle, and mutilate. Know yourself. If you need help, call the FBI. Exercise caution in your daily affairs, especially with those persons closest to you... That lemon on your left, for instance. Be assured that a walk through the seas of most souls would scarcely get your feet wet. Fall not in love, therefore, it will stick to your face. Gracefully surrender the things of youth: the birds, clean air, tuna, Taiwan - and let not the sands of time get in your lunch. Hire people with hooks. For a good time, call 606-4311, ask for Ken. Take heart in the deepening gloom that your dog is finally getting enough cheese. And reflect that whatever misfortune may be your lot, it could only be worse in Milwaukee.
(You are a fluke of the universe.
You have no right to be here.
Whether you can hear it or not,
The universe is laughing behind your back.)
Therefore, make peace with your god, whatever you perceive him to be: hairy thunderer or cosmic muffin. With all its hopes, dreams, promises, and urban renewal, the world continues to deteriorate. GIVE UP!
(You are a fluke of the universe.
You have no right to be here.
Whether you can hear it or not,
The universe is laughing behind your back.)
Also see https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Deteriorata
Well I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
Well it goes like this:
The fourth, the fifth, the minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah
Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah
Maybe there's a God above
Thought all I'd ever learned from love
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew ya
And it's not a cry that you hear at night
It's not somebody who's seen the light
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah
Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew ya
She tied you to her kitchen chair
Broke your throne and cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah
Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah
Baby we've been here before
I've seen this room and I've walked the floor
We used to live alone before I knew ya
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
Love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah
I did my best, it wasn't much.
I couldn't feel, so I learned to touch.
I told the truth, I didn't come to fool you.
Yeah even though it all went wrong
I'll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my lips but Hallelujah.
Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah
(Originally from Wikipedia)
O say can you see, by the dawn's early light,
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming,
Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight,
O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming?
And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there;
O say does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?
On the shore dimly seen through the mists of the deep,
Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes,
What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep,
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam,
In full glory reflected now shines in the stream:
'Tis the star-spangled banner, O long may it wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.
And where is that band who so vauntingly swore
That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion,
A home and a country, should leave us no more?
Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollution.
No refuge could save the hireling and slave
From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave:
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave,
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.
O thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand
Between their loved homes and the war's desolation.
Blest with vict'ry and peace, may the Heav'n rescued land
Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation!
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto: 'In God is our trust.'
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave![26]
In indignation over the start of the American Civil War, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr. added a fifth stanza to the song in 1861, which appeared in songbooks of the era.
When our land is illumined with Liberty's smile,
If a foe from within strike a blow at her glory,
Down, down with the traitor that dares to defile
The flag of her stars and the page of her story!
By the millions unchained who our birthright have gained,
We will keep her bright blazon forever unstained!
And the Star-Spangled Banner in triumph shall wave
While the land of the free is the home of the brave.
Precious memories, unseen angels
Sent from somewhere to my soul
How they linger, ever near me
And the sacred past unfolds
Precious memories how they linger
How they ever flood my soul
In the stillness, of the midnight
Precious sacred scenes unfold
Precious father, loving mother
Fly across the lonely years
And old home scenes of my childhood
In fond memory appears
Precious memories how they linger
How they ever flood my soul
In the stillness, of the midnight
Precious sacred scenes unfold
I remember Mother praying
Father too, on bended knee
The sun is sinking, shadows falling
But their prayers still follow me
Precious memories how they linger
How they ever flood my soul
In the stillness, of the midnight
Precious sacred scenes unfold
Precious memories fill my soul
Skye Boat Song
Trad. Air + lyrics by Sir Harold Boulton, 2nd Baronet + Robert Louis Stevenson
Publication History
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This Land Is Your Land
Words and Music by Woody Guthrie
This land is your land This land is my land
From California to the New York island;
From the red wood forest to the Gulf Stream waters
This land was made for you and Me.
As I was walking that ribbon of highway,
I saw above me that endless skyway:
I saw below me that golden valley:
This land was made for you and me.
I've roamed and rambled and I followed my footsteps
To the sparkling sands of her diamond deserts;
And all around me a voice was sounding:
This land was made for you and me.
When the sun came shining, and I was strolling,
And the wheat fields waving and the dust clouds rolling,
As the fog was lifting a voice was chanting:
This land was made for you and me.
As I went walking I saw a sign there
And on the sign it said "No Trespassing."
But on the other side it didn't say nothing,
That side was made for you and me.
In the shadow of the steeple I saw my people,
By the relief office I seen my people;
As they stood there hungry, I stood there asking
Is this land made for you and me?
Nobody living can ever stop me,
As I go walking that freedom highway;
Nobody living can ever make me turn back
This land was made for you and me.
© Copyright 1956 (renewed), 1958 (renewed), 1970 and 1972 by Woody Guthrie Publications, Inc. & TRO-Ludlow Music, Inc. (BMI)
Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale a tale of a fateful trip, that started from this tropic port, aboard this tiny ship.
The mate was a mighty sailin' man, the Skipper brave and sure, five passengers set sail that day, for a three hour tour, a three hour tour.
The weather started getting rough, the tiny ship was tossed. If not for the courage of the fearless crew the Minnow would be lost. The Minnow would be lost.
The ship's aground on the shore of this uncharted desert isle with Gilligan, the Skipper too. The millionaire and his wife, the movie star, the professor and Mary Ann, here on Gilligan's Isle.
(Ending verse) So this is the tale of our castaways, they're here for a long, long time. They'll have to make the best of things, it's an uphill climb.
The first mate and his Skipper too will do their very best, to make the others comfortable in their tropic island nest.
No phone, no lights, no motor car not a single luxury like Robinson Crusoe, it's primitive as can be.
So join us here each week my friends, you're sure to get a smile, from seven stranded castaways here on Gilligan's Isle!