From a few years back, a verse of the lullaby All the Pretty Little Horses that Lily and I recorded on an old Tascam cassette deck and to which I put some images. Though it was not intended as such it could be a tribute (low-rez) to this original and eccentric artist.
Hosted by * Yur Ol’ Black Mammie, another Naan altar eggo.
And this old poem could be appropriated by either his retinue of hangers-on or his devoted fans.
Who Killed Cock Robin
“Who killed Cock Robin?” “I,” said the Sparrow,
“With my bow and arrow, I killed Cock Robin.”
“Who saw him die?” “I,” said the Fly,
“With my little eye, I saw him die.”
“Who caught his blood?” “I,” said the Fish,
“With my little dish, I caught his blood.”
“Who’ll make the shroud?” “I,” said the Beetle,
“With my thread and needle, I’ll make the shroud.”
“Who’ll dig his grave?” “I,” said the Owl,
“With my pick and shovel, I’ll dig his grave.”
“Who’ll be the parson?” “I,” said the Rook,
“With my little book, I’ll be the parson.”
“Who’ll be the clerk?” “I,” said the Lark,
“If it’s not in the dark, I’ll be the clerk.”
“Who’ll carry the link?” “I,” said the Linnet,
“I’ll fetch it in a minute, I’ll carry the link.”
“Who’ll be chief mourner?” “I,” said the Dove,
“I mourn for my love, I’ll be chief mourner.”
“Who’ll carry the coffin?” “I,” said the Kite,
“If it’s not through the night, I’ll carry the coffin.”
“Who’ll bear the pall? “We,” said the Wren,
“Both the cock and the hen, we’ll bear the pall.”
“Who’ll sing a psalm?” “I,” said the Thrush,
“As she sat on a bush, I’ll sing a psalm.”
“Who’ll toll the bell?” “I,” said the bull,
“Because I can pull, I’ll toll the bell.”
All the birds of the air fell a-sighing and a-sobbing,
When they heard the bell toll for poor Cock Robin.
Prototype for a blog I’m thinking of starting. Maybe this is all there is. Click on the thumbnails, the resolution is better.
It was curious how Ahmadinejad went running off to Russia the ‘morning after’ his election. And wow! Medvedev is looking as sleek and glowing as a Barbie doll these days in his corset and shiny suit (oilskin?) leaving Admadi resembling a shapeless Matryoshka doll minus the babushka. Could the countries of the World actually be aligned along the heights (or lack ) of their leaders rather than their ideologies? Technically speaking Sarko should be ‘one of them,’ but he prefers to play with the big boys and girls..and Carla doesn’t want to be Snow White (one ‘dwarf’ is enough.) Speaking as a short person I admit feeling threatened when surrounded by too many tall people.