Today: Tripolar Birthday.

27 Giu

Da sette anni, oggi, il 27 giugno si festeggia la nascita di tre personalità storiche.

Tre persone nate all’incirca lo stesso giorno. Tre entità accomunate tutte dalla stessa costante: la voglia di spaccare il mondo in quattro e ritagliarsi una loro propria dimensione all’interno del mondo. tre persone con le quali adoro litigare. tre persone con le quali adoro confrontarmi e perdere nottate parlando di “altro”. Di diversione, di lotta, di eversione, espressione, conseguenza e lotte.


Lady Simeona

Mss. Debora

Miss Sally.

Tolte le formalità anglosassoni, palesemente inutili, trattandosi di signore non rivelerò le età.

Stasera si prospetta un turbinio di eventi e di stimoli. Utili come sempre a far grandi cagate: la serata si concentrerà tutta in una località supersegreta, poco accessibile, con dress-code particolareggiato e sopratutto sarà Mongola.

La selezione musicale.

L’avevo detto, no?

Molto stimolante. Per l’anima ed il corpo.

Happy Birthday! (UHH!) Happy Birthday! (UHH!)

Death and gloom and black despair
People dying everywhere.
We brought linen, white as cloud
Now we’ll sit and sew your shroud.
Now that you’re the age you are
Your demise cannot be far.
So far death you have bypassed
Don’t look back it’s gaining fast.
May the candles on your cake
Burn like cities in your wake.
I’m a leper, can’t you see
Get your birthday kiss from me.
Burn the castle and storm the keep
Kill the women but SAVE THE SHEEP!
Burn, then rape by firelight
Add -romance- to life tonight.
Pay attention, you must learn
First you pillage, THEN you burn.
It’s your birthday never fear
You’ll be dead this time next year.
May your deeds with sheep and yaks
Equal those with sword and axe.
See the wrinkles on your face
Like the pattern of fine lace.
Your servants steal, your wife’s untrue
Your children plot to murder you.
Indigestion’s what you get
From the enemies you ‘et.
They stole your gold, your sword, your house
They stole your sheep, but not your spouse.
You must marry very soon
Baby’s due the next full moon.
Fear and gloom and darkness but
No one found out YOU KNOW WHAT.
Were I sitting in your shoes
I’d go out and sing the blues.
You’re a period cook it’s true
Ask the beetles in the stew.
So you’ve aged another year
Now you know that Death is near.
Though you’re turning 29
Age to you is like fine wine.
Children dying far and near
They say that cancer’s caused by beer.
So you’re 29 again
Don’t tell lies to your good friend.
Children dying everywhere
Women crying in despair.
Now you’ve lived another year
Age to you is like stale beer.
Death, destruction, and despair
People dying everywhere.
So another year has passed
Don’t look now they’re gaining fast.
Typhoid, plague and polio
Coffins lined up in a row.
Long ago your hair turned gray
Now it’s falling out, they say.
Black Death has just struck your town
You yourself feel quite run-down.
Birthdays come but once a year
Marking time as Death draws near.
May the children in the street
Be your barbecuing meat.
We, your friends will never tell
That your body has gone to hell.
At your age most folks go blind
You’ve kept your sight, but lost your mind.
While you eat your birthday stew
We will loot the town for you
We love children, yes we do
Boiled or baked or in a stew.
When you’ve reached this age you know
That the mind is first to go.

If there be verses we have missed
You can add them to the list.
I pray you pass your verse along
And thus improve our merry song.


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