[Newspoetry] boughs of cows (fwd)

[sigfried at shout.net]

On the subject of old American favorites.  Here's a lengthy
usenet exchange from rec.arts.poems 1993.

sig


Article 38051 of rec.arts.poems:
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Path:
ddsw1!news.kei.com!yeshua.marcam.com!usc!cs.utexas.edu!uunet!pipe
x!canon.co.uk!wachtel
From: wachtel at canon.co.uk (Tom Wachtel)
Subject: Re: POEM WANTED
Message-ID: <1993Sep17.183139.1394 at canon.co.uk>
Reply-To: wachtel at canon.co.uk
Organization: Canon Research Centre Europe Ltd
References: <arun.748042837 at phip.aem.umn.edu>
<277k3j$9r7 at genesis.MCS.COM> <1993Sep15.192911.27236 at canon.co.uk>
<27826p$j6a at genesis.MCS.COM>
Date: Fri, 17 Sep 93 18:31:39 GMT
Lines: 100


> >> Arun Kumar <arun at aem.umn.edu> wrote:
> >> >Hi All,
> >> >I am looking for the author and the poem which begins with the following 
> >> >lines :
> >> >
> >> >       Title ( I don't remember )
> >> >
> >> > What is this life if full of cares,
> >> > You have no time to stand and stare,
> >> >
> >> > No time to stand beneath ...( words forgotten )... the boughs,
> >> > And gaze ...(words forgotten)... at the grazing cows.

> >sig at genesis.MCS.COM (Sigfried Gold) writes:
> >> 
> >> oh yeah, I wrote that poem.  it goes:
> >> 
> >>           Gazing at the Boughs of Cows
> >>           ----------------------------
> >> 
> >>           What if this life is full of cares?
> >>           You got no time to stand and stare,
> >>           No time to stand beneath the cows
> >>           and gaze up at their drooping boughs.
> >> 
> >>           And comb that milk out of your hair.
> >>           Why _are_ you standing under there?
> >>           Get back to all your hoes and ploughs
> >>           and quit molesting helpless cows.
> >> 
> >>           Sigfried Gold, 1933

> Tom Wachtel <wachtel at canon.co.uk> wrote:
> >
> >
> >no, no, -i- wrote it, dammit.
> >
> >
> >  Guessing at the Names of Shows
> >  ------------------------------
> >  
> >  What of this life so full of cars?
> >  You got no time to stand in bars,
> >  No time to pull, no pull for corks
> >  no time to muse on tuning forks.
> >
> >  And cut that cool out of your stare.
> >  Why _are_ you standing limp yet bare?
> >  Get back to all your hose and paints
> >  and quit molesting in-no-saints.
> >
> >  Tom Wachtel, 1924
> >
> >Tom Wachtel (wachtel at canon.co.uk)

> >sig at genesis.MCS.COM (Sigfried Gold) writes:
> 
> Shame on you, Tom!  You totally plagiarized that
> poem from my classic, Oh, Take Me, Death.
> 
>    Oh, Take Me, Death
>    ------------------------------------------
>    Alack!  My life, so full of scars
>    My time has come to take the stars
>    Oh Death!  Thou pullest out my cork
>    And run me through with thine dread fork
> 
>    The end, so cool, so raw, so bare,
>    I shiver in my underwear.
>    Oh, take me, Death, from these complaints,
>    Molest my form without restraint.
> 
>    Sigfried Gold, 1867

Tom Wachtel <wachtel at canon.co.uk> wrote:

pathetic attempt at post hoc rationalisation of erring done before.
every -knows- you wrote this after that famous evening when you thought
you had stolen my manuscript, but it was actually a mere note to
you-know-who... not that you would have noticed the difference. 


     Oats, Cake, Mead...Beth
     ------------------------------------------
     I lack a wife, so fuel is scarce
     Might I assume you'd take the place?
     Oh Beth! How cool it's out, minds baulk!
     You run mead through this wine-bread talk
     
     No foot, no knee, no thigh, no breast,
     I like to wear your undervest.
     So take me, Beth, with body paints
     and bring your leather wrist restraints
 
     Tom Wachtel, 1867, -March- ha!
 
 
-- 

Tom Wachtel (wachtel at canon.co.uk)



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