140 lines
6.2 KiB
Plaintext
140 lines
6.2 KiB
Plaintext
þò
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Type X1-74 to download
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[View] (1-74/q/?-List) :60
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The Hotel California [312] 234-6237
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A Visit By Saint Vicious-
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'Twas the night before New Year's, when everyone'd drunk,
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Not a rocker was stirring, not even a punk;
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The baggies were hung by the phono with care
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In hopes that Saint Vicious, yes Sid, would be there:
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The Ramones were sold-out, so we stayed in our sheds'
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While visions of slammers still danced in out heads;
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Suzie with hash pipe and I, dressed in black'
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Had just settled down for a long-playing track
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When out in the alley there arose such a clatter
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I crawled from the couch to see what was the matter.
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Away to the window I lurched with a crash,
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Tearing a poster I'd had from the Clash.
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The strobe light, tXeM…<4D>¥‘±
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¹‘<EFBFBD>¢¡•<EFBFBD>r•Ýµš¹½ÉÑ•‘<EFBFBD>š¹½Ý5RüGave a luster of Day-Glo tï<74>5bjects below;
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When what to my unfocused eyes should appear
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But a miniature stage, and a band I could hear,
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With a singer who danced; by the pogo he did
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I knew in a moment it must be Saint Sid.
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More rapid than Springsteen, their rhythm it came.
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And he snarled, and shouted, and called them by name:
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"Now Strummer! Biarfa! Now Joey Ramone!
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On Bators! On Patti! On Cook and on Jones-
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To the top on the amps, and kick over the wall!
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Now anarchy, anarchy, anarchy all!"
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As punks that before a rock concert go high,
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When they all start to pogo, mount to the sky,
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So up to the window, the rockers, they flew
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With powerful speakers, and Saint Vicious, too.
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And then in a twinkling I heard on the trunk
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The swearing and cursing of each famous punk.
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As I drew on my pipe, and was turning around,
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Down the vent shaft came ViO©jus, he came with a bound;
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He was dressed all in black from his head to his toe,
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And chains ran from his shoulder to regions below.
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A black leather jacket was flung on his back,
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And he looked like a heretic freed from theä<07>¹j¤øHis eyes, how they flashed! His smile, how merry!
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He staggered right in, and his breath smelled of sherry;
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His darkly blue hair was drawn up in a spike,
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And the rest of the punks were attired alike.
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With a portable mike he held tight in his hand;
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"Holiday in the Dun" issued forth from the band,
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To be followed by "Anarchy in the U.K.,"
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"God Save the Queen," "EMI," and "My Way."
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The band played so loud, albums æY›l from the shelf,
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And I gasped when I saw him, in spite of myself.
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A wink from his eye, and some dope for my head
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Soon gave me to know that I should pogo instead.
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He spoke but a word, and that was "Ramones,"
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And he gave us all tickets, and hash for the day!
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Then putting white powder inside of his nose
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And, spitting it out, he said: "Fuck all discos!"
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He sprang to his stage, to the bamÔ@<40>…Ù•<C399>
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<EFBFBD>š¡½Õѱj¤øAnd away they all jammed, 'til Saint Vicious passed out;
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But I heard him exclaim, with the last of his might,
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"SCORCHING PUNK ROCK TO ALL, AND TOO AWFUL GOOD NIGHT!"
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-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-
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A Southwest Pirates Guild Presentation
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Typed by Rip Skuzzbopper
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-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-
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Done! Press (Return) to continue :
|
||
|
||
Type X1-74 to download
|
||
[View] (1-74/q/?-List) :60
|
||
|
||
The Hotel California [312] 234-6237
|
||
|
||
A Visit B^´Saint Vicious-
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||
|
||
'Twas the night before New Year's, when everyone'd drunk,
|
||
Not a rocker was stirring, not even a punk;
|
||
The baggies were hung by the phono with care
|
||
In hopes that Saint Vicious, yes Sid, would be there:
|
||
The Ramones were sold-out, so we stayed in our sheds'
|
||
While visions of slammers still danced in out heads;
|
||
Suzie with hash pipe and I, dressed in black'
|
||
Had just settled down for a long-playing track
|
||
When out in the alley there arose such a clatter
|
||
I crawled from the couch to see what was the matter.
|
||
AG¡ä‰× Y<C2AD>window I lurched with a crash,
|
||
Tearing a poster I'd had from the Clash.
|
||
The strobe light, the acid, and the new-g.ÛÉÑ•‘<E280A2>š¹½Ý5RüGave a luster of Day-Glo to objects below;
|
||
When what to my unfocused eyes should appear
|
||
But a miniature stage, and a band I could hear,
|
||
With a singer who danced; by the pogo he did
|
||
I knew in a moment it must be Saint Sid.
|
||
More rapid than Springsteen, their rhythm it came.
|
||
And he snarled, and shouted, and called them by name:
|
||
"Now Strummer! Biarfa! Now Joey Ramone!
|
||
On Bators! On Patti! On Cook and on Jones-
|
||
To the top on the amps, and kick over the wall!
|
||
Now anarchy, anarchy, anarchy all!"
|
||
As punks that before a rock concert go high,
|
||
When they all start to pogo, mount to the sky,
|
||
So up to the window, the rockers, they flew
|
||
With powerful speakers, and Saint Vicious, too.
|
||
And then in a twinkling I heard on the trunk
|
||
The swearing and cursing of each famous punk.
|
||
As I drew on my pipe, and was turning around,
|
||
Down the vent shaft came Vicious, he came with a bound;
|
||
He was dressed all in black from his head to his toe,
|
||
And chains ran from his shoulder to regions below.
|
||
A black leather jacket was flung on his back,
|
||
And he looked like a heretic freed from the rack.
|
||
His eyes, how they flashed! His smile, how merry!
|
||
He staggered right in, and his breath smelled of sherry;
|
||
His darkly blue hair was drawn up jÞ@…<>šÁ¥•±j¤øAnd the rest of the punks were attired alike.
|
||
With a portable mike he held tight in his hand;
|
||
"Holiday in the Dun" issued forth from the band,
|
||
To be followed by "Anarchy in the U.K.,"
|
||
"God Save the Queen," "EMI," and "My Way."
|
||
The band played so loud, albums fell from the shelf,
|
||
And I gasped when I saw him, in spite of myself.
|
||
A wink from his eye, and some dope for my head
|
||
Soon gave me to know that I should pogo instead.
|
||
He spoke but a word, and that was "Ramones,"
|
||
And he gave us all tickets, and hash for the day!
|
||
Then putting white powder inside of his nose
|
||
And, spitting it out, he said: "Fuck all discos!"
|
||
He sprang to his stage, to the band gave a shout,
|
||
And away they all jammed, 'til Saint Vicious pasg%Í<>zÕÑíj¤øBut I heard (id exclaim, with the l1sþ<73>z™<7A>B¥Í<C2A5>j¥<6A>¡Ñ±j¤ø
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"SCORCHING PUNK ROCK TO ALL, AND TOO AWFUL GOOD NIGHT!"
|
||
|
||
-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-
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A Southwest Pirates Guild Presentation
|
||
Typed by Rip Skuzzbopper
|
||
-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-
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Done! Press (Return) to continue :ýé |