Help identify a poem about nuclear bombs....
Discussion
Odd one i know....
When I was at school about ten years ago for GCSE English we studied wartime poetry.
There was one about a nuclear bomb, and it had the same repeated line in it... seemingly along the lines of "don't blame me" or "its not my fault"
Thats about all i can remeber about it.....
Anyone any ideas?
Cheers
Dan
When I was at school about ten years ago for GCSE English we studied wartime poetry.
There was one about a nuclear bomb, and it had the same repeated line in it... seemingly along the lines of "don't blame me" or "its not my fault"
Thats about all i can remeber about it.....
Anyone any ideas?
Cheers
Dan
Simpo Two said:
callyman said:
Or this classic from the same artist..........
"Hear the words I sing,
War's a horrid thing.
But still I sing, sing, sing
Ding a ling a ling."
You'll be heading for 'Oh death where is thy sting-a-ling'"Hear the words I sing,
War's a horrid thing.
But still I sing, sing, sing
Ding a ling a ling."
Interesting how very few people actually know anything any more.
Icarus Allsorts? That's the only one I can think of to do with nukes.
Roger McGough said:
Icarus Allsorts
A little bit of heaven fell
From out the sky one day
It landed in the ocean
Not so very far away
The general at the radar screen
Rubbed his hands in glee
And grinning pressed the button
That started World War Three
From every corner of the earth
Bombs began to fly
There were even missile jams
No traffic lights in the sky
In the time it takes to blow your nose
The people fell, the mushrooms rose.
'House!' cried the fat lady
As the bingohall moved to various parts of the town
'Raus!' cried the German butcher
as his shop came tumbling down
Phillip was in the counting house
Counting out his money
The Queen was in the parlour
Eating bread and honey
When through the window
Flew a bomb
And made them go all funny
In the time it takes to draw a breath
Or eat a toadstool, instant death
The rich
Huddled outside the doors of their fallout shelters
Like drunken carol singers
The poor
Clutching shattered televisions
And at last week's editions of T.V Times
(but the very last)
Civil defence volunteers
With their tin hats in one hand
And their heads in the other
C.N.D supporters
Their ban the bomb badges beginning to rust
Have scrawled 'I told you so' in the dust
A little bit of heaven fell
From out of the sky one day
It landed in Vermont
North-eastern USA
The general at the radar screen
He should have got the sack
But that wouldn't bring
Three thousand million, seven hundred, and sixty-eight people back,
Would it?
Christ, those last 4 lines...that's more holes than it takes to fill the Albert Hall!A little bit of heaven fell
From out the sky one day
It landed in the ocean
Not so very far away
The general at the radar screen
Rubbed his hands in glee
And grinning pressed the button
That started World War Three
From every corner of the earth
Bombs began to fly
There were even missile jams
No traffic lights in the sky
In the time it takes to blow your nose
The people fell, the mushrooms rose.
'House!' cried the fat lady
As the bingohall moved to various parts of the town
'Raus!' cried the German butcher
as his shop came tumbling down
Phillip was in the counting house
Counting out his money
The Queen was in the parlour
Eating bread and honey
When through the window
Flew a bomb
And made them go all funny
In the time it takes to draw a breath
Or eat a toadstool, instant death
The rich
Huddled outside the doors of their fallout shelters
Like drunken carol singers
The poor
Clutching shattered televisions
And at last week's editions of T.V Times
(but the very last)
Civil defence volunteers
With their tin hats in one hand
And their heads in the other
C.N.D supporters
Their ban the bomb badges beginning to rust
Have scrawled 'I told you so' in the dust
A little bit of heaven fell
From out of the sky one day
It landed in Vermont
North-eastern USA
The general at the radar screen
He should have got the sack
But that wouldn't bring
Three thousand million, seven hundred, and sixty-eight people back,
Would it?
Edited by tigger1 on Tuesday 28th October 19:32
Doesn't sound like this one. But it's good, so i'm posting it anyway. Oh, and you should buy an MX5 too.
Slough - John Betjeman
Come friendly bombs and fall on Slough!
It isn't fit for humans now,
There isn't grass to graze a cow.
Swarm over, Death!
Come, bombs and blow to smithereens
Those air -conditioned, bright canteens,
Tinned fruit, tinned meat, tinned milk, tinned beans,
Tinned minds, tinned breath.
Mess up the mess they call a town-
A house for ninety-seven down
And once a week a half a crown
For twenty years.
And get that man with double chin
Who'll always cheat and always win,
Who washes his repulsive skin
In women's tears:
And smash his desk of polished oak
And smash his hands so used to stroke
And stop his boring dirty joke
And make him yell.
But spare the bald young clerks who add
The profits of the stinking cad;
It's not their fault that they are mad,
They've tasted Hell.
It's not their fault they do not know
The birdsong from the radio,
It's not their fault they often go
To Maidenhead
And talk of sport and makes of cars
In various bogus-Tudor bars
And daren't look up and see the stars
But belch instead.
In labour-saving homes, with care
Their wives frizz out peroxide hair
And dry it in synthetic air
And paint their nails.
Come, friendly bombs and fall on Slough
To get it ready for the plough.
The cabbages are coming now;
The earth exhales
Slough - John Betjeman
Come friendly bombs and fall on Slough!
It isn't fit for humans now,
There isn't grass to graze a cow.
Swarm over, Death!
Come, bombs and blow to smithereens
Those air -conditioned, bright canteens,
Tinned fruit, tinned meat, tinned milk, tinned beans,
Tinned minds, tinned breath.
Mess up the mess they call a town-
A house for ninety-seven down
And once a week a half a crown
For twenty years.
And get that man with double chin
Who'll always cheat and always win,
Who washes his repulsive skin
In women's tears:
And smash his desk of polished oak
And smash his hands so used to stroke
And stop his boring dirty joke
And make him yell.
But spare the bald young clerks who add
The profits of the stinking cad;
It's not their fault that they are mad,
They've tasted Hell.
It's not their fault they do not know
The birdsong from the radio,
It's not their fault they often go
To Maidenhead
And talk of sport and makes of cars
In various bogus-Tudor bars
And daren't look up and see the stars
But belch instead.
In labour-saving homes, with care
Their wives frizz out peroxide hair
And dry it in synthetic air
And paint their nails.
Come, friendly bombs and fall on Slough
To get it ready for the plough.
The cabbages are coming now;
The earth exhales
dan1981 said:
Odd one i know....
When I was at school about ten years ago for GCSE English we studied wartime poetry.
There was one about a nuclear bomb, and it had the same repeated line in it... seemingly along the lines of "don't blame me" or "its not my fault"
Thats about all i can remeber about it.....
Anyone any ideas?
Cheers
Dan
On top of a mountain all covered in sand.When I was at school about ten years ago for GCSE English we studied wartime poetry.
There was one about a nuclear bomb, and it had the same repeated line in it... seemingly along the lines of "don't blame me" or "its not my fault"
Thats about all i can remeber about it.....
Anyone any ideas?
Cheers
Dan
I saw my teacher, with a blue rubber band.
I killed her with pleasure I killed her with pride.
But sadly she fell off and died.
I went to her funeral I stood on her grave.
Some people threw flowers, I threw a grenade.
I opened her coffin, she looked pretty dead.
So I got my bazooka, and blew off her head.
The headmaster caught me, and said I was cruel.
So I got my Bazooka and blew up the school!
I remember this one
Wado-Ryu said:
On top of a mountain all covered in sand.
I saw my teacher, with a blue rubber band.
I killed her with pleasure I killed her with pride.
But sadly she fell off and died.
I went to her funeral I stood on her grave.
Some people threw flowers, I threw a grenade.
I opened her coffin, she looked pretty dead.
So I got my bazooka, and blew off her head.
The headmaster caught me, and said I was cruel.
So I got my Bazooka and blew up the school!
I remember this one
See our version startedI saw my teacher, with a blue rubber band.
I killed her with pleasure I killed her with pride.
But sadly she fell off and died.
I went to her funeral I stood on her grave.
Some people threw flowers, I threw a grenade.
I opened her coffin, she looked pretty dead.
So I got my bazooka, and blew off her head.
The headmaster caught me, and said I was cruel.
So I got my Bazooka and blew up the school!
I remember this one
"On top of a mountain, all covered in snow
I shot Maggie Thatcher, with an arrow and bow.."
Used to wind my parents up anyway. No doubt some lefty teacher taught it to us
rhinochopig said:
Simpo Two said:
Interesting how very few people actually know anything any more.
Have you checked down the back of the sofa cushion? Perhaps that's where you lost your sense of humour. and shove it 
How about the lyrics of Tom Lehrer' song - "We'll All Go Together When We Go"?
When you attend a funeral,
It is sad to think that sooner or'l
Later those you love will do the same for you.
And you may have thought it tragic,
Not to mention other adjec-
Tives, to think of all the weeping they will do.
(But don't you worry.)
No more ashes, no more sackcloth,
And an arm band made of black cloth
Will some day nevermore adorn a sleeve.
For if the bomb that drops on you
Gets your friends and neighbors too,
There'll be nobody left behind to grieve.
And we will all go together when we go.
What a comforting fact that is to know.
Universal bereavement,
An inspiring achievement,
Yes, we will all go together when we go.
We will all go together when we go.
All suffused with an incandescent glow.
No one will have the endurance
To collect on his insurance,
Lloyd's of London will be loaded when they go.
Oh we will all fry together when we fry.
We'll be French fried potatoes by and by.
There will be no more misery
When the world is our rotisserie,
Yes, we will all fry together when we fry.
Down by the old maelstrom,
There'll be a storm before the calm.
And we will all bake together when we bake.
There'll be nobody present at the wake.
With complete participation
In that grand incineration,
Nearly three billion hunks of well-done steak.
Oh we will all char together when we char.
And let there be no moaning of the bar.
Just sing out a Te Deum
When you see that I.C.B.M.,*
And the party will be come-as-you-are.
Oh, we will all burn together when we burn.
There'll be no need to stand and wait your turn.
When it's time for the fallout
And Saint Peter calls us all out,
We'll just drop our agendas and adjourn.
You will all go directly to your respective Valhallas.
Go directly, do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollahs.
And we will all go together when we go.
Every Hottentot and every Eskimo.
When the air becomes uranious,
We will all go simultaneous.
Yes, we all will go together
When we all go together,
Yes we all will go together when we go.
When you attend a funeral,
It is sad to think that sooner or'l
Later those you love will do the same for you.
And you may have thought it tragic,
Not to mention other adjec-
Tives, to think of all the weeping they will do.
(But don't you worry.)
No more ashes, no more sackcloth,
And an arm band made of black cloth
Will some day nevermore adorn a sleeve.
For if the bomb that drops on you
Gets your friends and neighbors too,
There'll be nobody left behind to grieve.
And we will all go together when we go.
What a comforting fact that is to know.
Universal bereavement,
An inspiring achievement,
Yes, we will all go together when we go.
We will all go together when we go.
All suffused with an incandescent glow.
No one will have the endurance
To collect on his insurance,
Lloyd's of London will be loaded when they go.
Oh we will all fry together when we fry.
We'll be French fried potatoes by and by.
There will be no more misery
When the world is our rotisserie,
Yes, we will all fry together when we fry.
Down by the old maelstrom,
There'll be a storm before the calm.
And we will all bake together when we bake.
There'll be nobody present at the wake.
With complete participation
In that grand incineration,
Nearly three billion hunks of well-done steak.
Oh we will all char together when we char.
And let there be no moaning of the bar.
Just sing out a Te Deum
When you see that I.C.B.M.,*
And the party will be come-as-you-are.
Oh, we will all burn together when we burn.
There'll be no need to stand and wait your turn.
When it's time for the fallout
And Saint Peter calls us all out,
We'll just drop our agendas and adjourn.
You will all go directly to your respective Valhallas.
Go directly, do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollahs.
And we will all go together when we go.
Every Hottentot and every Eskimo.
When the air becomes uranious,
We will all go simultaneous.
Yes, we all will go together
When we all go together,
Yes we all will go together when we go.
Or Simon and Garfunkels, the Sun is Burning:
SaG said:
The sun is burning in the sky
Strands of clouds go slowly drifting by
In the park the lazy breeze
Are joining in the flowers, among the trees
And the sun burns in the sky
Now the sun is in the West
Little kids go home to take their rest
And the couples in the park
Are holdin' hands and waitin' for the dark
And the sun is in the West
Now the sun is sinking low
Children playin' know it's time to go
High above a spot appears
A little blossom blooms and then draws near
And the sun is sinking low
Now the sun has come to Earth
Shrouded in a mushroom cloud of death
Death comes in a blinding flash
Of hellish heat and leaves a smear of ash
And the sun has come to Earth
Now the sun has disappeared
All is darkness, anger, pain and fear
Twisted, sightless wrecks of men
Go groping on their knees and cry in pain
And the sun has disappeared
Strands of clouds go slowly drifting by
In the park the lazy breeze
Are joining in the flowers, among the trees
And the sun burns in the sky
Now the sun is in the West
Little kids go home to take their rest
And the couples in the park
Are holdin' hands and waitin' for the dark
And the sun is in the West
Now the sun is sinking low
Children playin' know it's time to go
High above a spot appears
A little blossom blooms and then draws near
And the sun is sinking low
Now the sun has come to Earth
Shrouded in a mushroom cloud of death
Death comes in a blinding flash
Of hellish heat and leaves a smear of ash
And the sun has come to Earth
Now the sun has disappeared
All is darkness, anger, pain and fear
Twisted, sightless wrecks of men
Go groping on their knees and cry in pain
And the sun has disappeared
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