Lyrics:
of her social circle
Won't introduce them to Lincoln or Frost
Doesn't want to let them get to know Keats or Studs Terkel
They'll never know what they
a Botticelli, You're Keats, You're Shelley,
You're Ovaltine.
You're a boon, You're the dam at Boulder,
You're the moon over Mae West's shoulder.
I'm a nominee
other way
To better say
I love you, I love you, I love you (ah)
Read some Byron, Shelly, and Keats
Recited it over a hip-hop beat
I'm having
a Botticelli, You're Keats, You're Shelley,
You're Ovaltine.
You're a boon, You're the dam at Boulder,
You're the moon over Mae West's shoulder.
I'm a nominee
a Botticelli, You're Keats, You're Shelley,
You're Ovaltine.
You're a boon, You're the dam at Boulder,
You're the moon over Mae West's shoulder.
I'm a nominee
eat homegrown spice
I got a John Keats autographed Grecian urn
Filled up with my brown rice
Yes, I do
Oh, but folks lately I have been spotted
Månen hänger lågt
Över allt do tror do såg
Under trasigt moln
Går ett Yeti-spår
500 mil I snön
Ett UFO över sjön
Och I en blixt ser jag
Keats stå
at menus in Olde English verse
"Ode to a burger" by Keats at his worst
The hissing of omelettes the breaking of legs
Don't shoot till you see the whites
tell to you
To help you on your way down the road
I couldn't quote you no dickens, shelley or keats
'Cause it's all been said before
Make the best
You're the top!
You're a hot tamale.
You're an angel, you,
Simply too, too, too diveen,
You're a Boticcelli,
You're Keats,
You're Shelly!
at menus in Olde English verse
"Ode to a burger" by Keats at his worst
The hissing of omelettes the breaking of legs
Don't shoot till you see the whites
Baby broken heart
Trail blazin' moma
Dressing for the part
Hardly Keats I know
But add a little Bourbon and lotsa noize
And it sounds good to me
Baby broken heart
Trail blazin' mama
Dressing for the part
Hardly Keats I know
But add a little bourbon and lotsa noize
And it sounds good to me
Cultivate the mind, train it to teach
To write a book like Edward ??Shaw Keats??
Motivate the crowd aloud to get a response
Catch the mood of ambiance
No
speechless weeks
Goggling his beloved and reading Keats and reading Dante's
Next if she gave him a sign, he'd send flowers for a time
Then in one magnificent
outnumber the sand grains of Sahara
Certainly those unborn ghosts include greater poets than Keats, scientists greater than Newton
We know this because
outnumber the sand grains of Sahara
Certainly those unborn ghosts include greater poets than Keats, scientists greater than Newton
We know this because
a Botticelli, You're Keats, You're Shelley,
You're Ovaltine.
You're a boon, You're the dam at Boulder,
You're the moon over Mae West's shoulder.
I'm a nominee
You're the top!
You're a hot tamale.
You're an angel, you,
Simply too, too, too diveen,
You're a Boticcelli,
You're Keats,
You're Shelly!
a Botticelli, You're Keats, You're Shelley,
You're Ovaltine.
You're a boon, You're the dam at Boulder,
You're the moon over Mae West's shoulder.
I'm a nominee
He reads her Keats and Byron
Till she can go no further
He starts to read her Thurber
I wanna make you happy
I wanna make you happy
You wanna
mended too? I miss you
I miss you, I really do.
I've been reading Browning, Keats and William Wordsworth
And they all seem to be saying the same thing
Mort, red as your way out,
Red abort, red as pleasure, traitor, red flavor, red as walls,
Smog, red silos, red stone, red sheets, read Keats, red sunset,
you blend.
It gives us strangely little aid,
But does tell something in the end.
And steadfast as Keats' Eremite,
Not even stooping from its
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