One Room, One Light

This grizzly little number was posted in July last year and was the result of a bloggers challenge.

One Room, One Light

What’s going on in the middle of the night?

That one room with that one light

 

What’s going on in the middle of the day?

The room with the light that never goes away

 

Remember, curiosity can be a killer

Your mind may boil, your body may blister

 

You know what happened to the cat?

It didn’t end well I’ll tell you that

 

The horrific sight, a man and his wife

Both clinging on for dear life

 

Playing a game they thought was safe

Then lightening balls began to strafe

 

The portal opened, a very large hole

A demons hand to take a soul

 

Their bodies were left all shrivelled and white

Just lying their having died of fright

 

Okay I confess, it’s a story I heard

And agree its rubbish, completely absurd

 

But that one room;

With that one light;

Continues to shine;

All day and all night

 

Copyright © JRFC
Image from Pixabay, modified by JRFC

Song’s from the Movies

It’s CHRISTMASSSSSS and I’m back in the day Guys and Gals. Back when Hip Hop came to Wales and, now I think about it, trying to write Rap songs. I was never much of a dancer but words, no problem (take that smug look off your face).

Anyhoo, anyone remember this? From the movie Beat Street and Volume 2 of the Soundtrack this was brilliant. It was clever, funny, ironic, real and so on and so forth.

Go watch the slightly shorter movie version over here after you’ve read the hilarious version.

Santa’s Rap

Ho! Ho Ho, Ho Ho Ho, open up your door

I’m Santa Claus and guess what y’all

I got something to show

I came to bring some Christmas Spirit

I got a big bag now guess what’s in it

Something for the rich, and something for the poor

So Merry Christmas and ho ho ho

 

Ho Ho Ho Merry Christmas my foot

I’ma tell you what Santa really put

Under my so-called tree but in reality

Looked like nothing but a decorated pole to me

 

Man, you talk about a tree it makes wonder

Cause I never had a tree to put anything under

If I ever did luck up and get a tree

There was never anything under it for me

 

Man, I don’t what y’all talking about

Cause when I come to your town, I just get chased out

I thought y’all would be happy to see Santa Claus

But all you say is stick them up, and give me yours

 

You’re lucky; all you did was get ripped off

The next time to keep your big fat ass is up north

Because after my last few Christmas nights

If I see you around my neighborhood, I’m shooting on sight

 

And I ain’t even got a chimney for you to come down

So ain’t no need for you to be coming around

Cause the last So-Called Santa that came in with the sack

Wasn’t giving out presents, he was taking them back

 

Man, you all should be glad that I didn’t quit

Cause I’m getting too old for this Santa Claus shit

You think I’m getting presents, made for free

I gotta pay them elves and ain’t nobody paying me

 

You big fat whale, you might as well quit

Cause I can name a hundred presents that I didn’t get

And if I did get a present it would be a hand-me-down

Yo, I got this for Christmas, now how that sound?

 

It sounds good to me, cause I’m about to freeze

You wanna see something, look at the bottom of these

Me and brothers can’t go out, at the same time

Cause a coat that’s theirs; is a coat that’s mine

 

Man, I know one thing; y’all better get off my neck

And wait til you get your welfare check

Go on down to the office and stand on the line

Better hurry up, see, I got mine

 

Jingle, Jangle, Jingle for the poor

And once you get your welfare check

Y’all can kiss my mistletoe

Ho Ho Ho, Ho Ho Ho

 

That’s why the presents keep getting mixed up

Cause year after year you keep fucking up

And now I know why cause you’re always drunk

Instead of G.I. Joe, you send me this junk

 

That ain’t a G.I. Joe that’s a G.I. jerk

With a Kung Fu grip that don’t even work

So all I did was just put him away

Cause my G.I. Joe looked G.I. gay

 

That’s why you don’t get presents now cause you just ingrates

If the G.I. Joe is gay; what difference does it make?

After all he’s just a doll, ain’t too much he can do

If you ask me boy, I ain’t to sure about you

 

Man, forget about that, what about these shoes?

Instead of Christmas Carols, I’m singing the blues

Staring at the clock, looking hard at the time

Cause I just played the number combinated on a dime

 

I played 234 and put a penny on seven

Combinated 412 and deleted eleven

Put my last five cents on 356

And after all that I didn’t eat shit

 

Jingle, Jangle, Jingle for the poor

And once you get your welfare check

You won’t play in numbers no more

Ho, ho, ho – won’t play them no more

Yeah, you got that, right?

 

Alright listen Bloato, with your big fat suit

Next time say: no don’t send no substitute

Because I asked you for a beatbox and you know what I got?

Doug E. Fresh, you know that kid from down the block

 

For a facsimile, we must admit

Doug E. Fresh is good and made a perfect fit

He’s the only reason why we weren’t totally mad

Without Doug E our Christmas would’ve been really sad

 

Jingle, Jangle, Jingle for the poor

And once you get your welfare check

Even Doug E Fresh go go

Ho, ho, ho Doug E Fresh go go

 

To top Christmas off; I had no loving in a while

I love to have sex but I can’t afford a child

My girl wants a baby but I had to chill

She said if you don’t want a baby then you take the pill

 

(What is Christmas for?) Huh (What is Christmas for?)

What is Christmas for? – Yeah! What is Christmas for?

 

Wind up toys that don’t wind up  (Mama Mama!)

Talking dolls that don’t shut up (Mama Mama!)

This is the type of present that you buy when you’re poor

So that’s what you have to settle for

 

And it ain’t no secret that everything’s sunny

If you’re living in Palm Springs with all that money

Americanomics works and I won’t argue that is true

But if the economy is getting better, getting better for who?

 

Well, if you ask me I’m doing much worse than before

With the welfare cuts, I don’t eat no more

So if I did wanna go out, I couldn’t go nowhere

Cause I ate every last one of them reindeer

 

Rudolph first, I went down the list

I got so hungry, I just couldn’t resist

I ate Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Dixon

Fried them up and then started to mix them

And before you knew it, they were all gone

I wonder what y’all gonna do about my reindeer song

 

We’ll sing silent night and jingle bells

And all those Christmas rhymes

Cause nobody gives a shit about your reindeer and hard times

 

You just Jingle and Jangle and hang out with the poor

And when you get your welfare check, you might rent them by the store

Doug E. Fresh and Magnificent Force, and head on out the door

And leave these party people sing the Jingle, Jangle for the poor

 

Jingle, Jangle, Jingle for the poor

Don’t take us for granted, cause you may never know

One day when your least expect it, we could even up the scope

So just jingle, jangle, jingle with the poor

 

Sing! Jingle, jangle, a jingle jangle with the poor

Jingle, jangle, jingle with the poor (Ho, ho, ho – Ho, ho, ho)

Jingle, jangle, a jingle jangle with the poor (Everybody Sing!)

Jingle, jangle, jingle with the poor (Ho, ho, ho – Come On!)

Jingle, jangle, a jingle jangle with the…

 

Artists: Kool Moe Dee,  Doug E. Fresh, The Treacherous Three

Written by Kevin Keaton, LaMar Hill, Mohandas Dewese

Image from Pixabay, modified by JRFC

My Special Guest tonight is…

Clement Clarke Moore and A Visit from St. Nicholas.

How can you not love this. I’m sure it warms the cockles of every heart and if it doesn’t then… BAH Humbug on you !!!

Until I did my homework I always thought it was called “The Night Before Christmas” some also call it “T’was the Night Before Christmas” from its first line. Whatever you call it it’s brilliant. Everything a Christmas poem should be and more.

Digging deeper though it seems there’s a little scandal behind it. It was first published anonymously in 1823 and later attributed to Clement Clarke Moore, who claimed authorship in 1837. Some commentators now believe the poem was written by Henry Livingston Junior, (Oww Err Mrs). Well whoever wrote it… Bravo!

Merry Christmas Everyone!

A Visit from St. Nicholas

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;

 

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;

 

The children were nestled all snug in their beds;

While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;

 

And mamma in her ‘kerchief’, and I in my cap,

Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap,

 

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.

 

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

 

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,

Gave a lustre of midday to objects below,

 

When what to my wondering eyes did appear,

But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny rein-deer,

 

With a little old driver so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment he must be St. Nick.

 

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:

 

“Now, Dasher! now, Dancer now Prancer and Vixen!

On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donner and Blitzen!

 

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!

Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”

 

As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;

 

So up to the housetop the coursers they flew

With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too —

 

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

 

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

 

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;

 

A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a pedler just opening his pack.

 

His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

 

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow;

 

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath;

 

He had a broad face and a little round belly

That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.

 

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;

 

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

 

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,

 

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;

 

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

 

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight—

“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”

 

Image from Pixabay, Modified by JRFC