Song Parodies -> Prepped, Primed, Prone, Proud in Parodies to Ponde
| Original Song Title: | "I Am the Very Model of a Modern Major General" |
| Original Performer: | Gilbert and Sullivan |
| Parody Song Title: | "Prepped, Primed, Prone, Proud in Parodies to Ponde" |
| Parody Written by: | John A. Barry |
Prepped, primed, prone, proud in parodies to ponder puns' potenti-al,
I dipthongize, neologize. . .for rules not reverenti-al.
There's wretched excess when I delve in devices rhetorical;
Alliteration's my fixation. . .nix shtiks allegorical.
Some play at sports; for plays on words, I'm verging on fanatical.
I'm not averse to pilf'ring verse from persons--I'm piratical.
Both syntax and semantics I will savage and a lot abuse.
People peruse my puerile views; they lose consciousness, gotta snooze.
People peruse my parodies, they fall asleep and gotta snooze,
As if in thrall of valium, boosted by juice, a lotta booze.
Devoid of nuance are my tunes. . .monochromes, not a lotta hues.
Said tunes are often turgid with a certain turn of raffishness;
I've aired more than my fair share of seafarin' airs 'bout gaffin' fish.
In short, in matters metaphorical, they're nonessenti-al;
I'd rather ponder punning as I pen posts base and besti-al.
In short, in matters of manners, man, I'm not deferenti-al;
I'd rather ponder punning as I pen posts base and besti-al. . .
Proceed to post my piss-poor puns; your pain is exponenti-al.
I can't discern the difference between irony and paradox.
A pun has reared it's head I fear: two proctologists: pair o' docs.
Or homophone or homonym or homograph? I'm quizzical;
Here's wind, wind; tear, tare; tear, tier. Fear's clear: 'ppears near metaphysical.
I often bore with anaphora also with epistrophe.
My paean to peein' involves an accolade, "the piss trophy."
Syntactically, erratic me, I'm quite inclined to sin some more;
Semantically I ramble free; words ain't defined like this before.
Syntactically, semantically, somnolent me; I'm fit to snore.
I have done the OS to death; you may say, "Seen this sh*t afore!"
Canonically, moronic me, I find the world of lit a bore.
I reference Sartre, Barthes, and Barth; no bard, I am bamboozlin';
I've yet to plague the players on tunes with doin's Camusian--
Ain't tried to read his roman with the title pestilenti-al
Yet pass off parodies as par excellence existenti-al.
I pass off subpar parodies with parlance existenti-al.
Yet in "explicatin'" "La Peste," I'm bereft of credenti-al.
Wit' Wikipedia it easy be, uh, referenti-al.
I must admit that each bad bit, I thought, was known as "pabulum"--
Not apposite. . .the opposite--it's Pablum. . .parsed like pap to some.
I showed a francophone I'm no pusillanimous scaredy cat;
He blared 'bout this GS air: "Nary chest hair to dare par'dy that!"
I puffed my chest, professed: I've no pussy animus; "Merde!" he spat.
A linguist, Richard Lederer, wrote "Get Thee to a Punnery";
He penned a preface to my book; now won't brook me; he's shunnin' me.
Perhaps he reached this site and recoiled when he read my parodies.
Perhaps he'd tan my hide with Tom McCanns. . .extra wide pair o' Ds.
Perhaps he'd boot my backside with shoes extra wide, a pair o' Ds;
I'd have to turn the other cheek or not be meek and parry Ds.
(A couple reads my couplets and then drug-snuffs it--the pair ODs.)
All my literary knowledge hails from Wiley's series for "Dummies";
My emails all have smileys: I write, flail, fail, quail, wail, "More rum, please!"
I snort this matter vegetable, transformed by an alchemical
Process and then proceed posthaste to ponder puns' potenti-al.
I snort and then posthaste post waste ponderous, pestitlenti-al.
My quips quotidian don't qualify as quintessenti-al
PU's two-third ' a pun; this one's near done--that's providenti-al.
You got Prince Albert in a can? That stench is French essence-ial.*
*essence: gas
I dipthongize, neologize. . .for rules not reverenti-al.
There's wretched excess when I delve in devices rhetorical;
Alliteration's my fixation. . .nix shtiks allegorical.
Some play at sports; for plays on words, I'm verging on fanatical.
I'm not averse to pilf'ring verse from persons--I'm piratical.
Both syntax and semantics I will savage and a lot abuse.
People peruse my puerile views; they lose consciousness, gotta snooze.
People peruse my parodies, they fall asleep and gotta snooze,
As if in thrall of valium, boosted by juice, a lotta booze.
Devoid of nuance are my tunes. . .monochromes, not a lotta hues.
Said tunes are often turgid with a certain turn of raffishness;
I've aired more than my fair share of seafarin' airs 'bout gaffin' fish.
In short, in matters metaphorical, they're nonessenti-al;
I'd rather ponder punning as I pen posts base and besti-al.
In short, in matters of manners, man, I'm not deferenti-al;
I'd rather ponder punning as I pen posts base and besti-al. . .
Proceed to post my piss-poor puns; your pain is exponenti-al.
I can't discern the difference between irony and paradox.
A pun has reared it's head I fear: two proctologists: pair o' docs.
Or homophone or homonym or homograph? I'm quizzical;
Here's wind, wind; tear, tare; tear, tier. Fear's clear: 'ppears near metaphysical.
I often bore with anaphora also with epistrophe.
My paean to peein' involves an accolade, "the piss trophy."
Syntactically, erratic me, I'm quite inclined to sin some more;
Semantically I ramble free; words ain't defined like this before.
Syntactically, semantically, somnolent me; I'm fit to snore.
I have done the OS to death; you may say, "Seen this sh*t afore!"
Canonically, moronic me, I find the world of lit a bore.
I reference Sartre, Barthes, and Barth; no bard, I am bamboozlin';
I've yet to plague the players on tunes with doin's Camusian--
Ain't tried to read his roman with the title pestilenti-al
Yet pass off parodies as par excellence existenti-al.
I pass off subpar parodies with parlance existenti-al.
Yet in "explicatin'" "La Peste," I'm bereft of credenti-al.
Wit' Wikipedia it easy be, uh, referenti-al.
I must admit that each bad bit, I thought, was known as "pabulum"--
Not apposite. . .the opposite--it's Pablum. . .parsed like pap to some.
I showed a francophone I'm no pusillanimous scaredy cat;
He blared 'bout this GS air: "Nary chest hair to dare par'dy that!"
I puffed my chest, professed: I've no pussy animus; "Merde!" he spat.
A linguist, Richard Lederer, wrote "Get Thee to a Punnery";
He penned a preface to my book; now won't brook me; he's shunnin' me.
Perhaps he reached this site and recoiled when he read my parodies.
Perhaps he'd tan my hide with Tom McCanns. . .extra wide pair o' Ds.
Perhaps he'd boot my backside with shoes extra wide, a pair o' Ds;
I'd have to turn the other cheek or not be meek and parry Ds.
(A couple reads my couplets and then drug-snuffs it--the pair ODs.)
All my literary knowledge hails from Wiley's series for "Dummies";
My emails all have smileys: I write, flail, fail, quail, wail, "More rum, please!"
I snort this matter vegetable, transformed by an alchemical
Process and then proceed posthaste to ponder puns' potenti-al.
I snort and then posthaste post waste ponderous, pestitlenti-al.
My quips quotidian don't qualify as quintessenti-al
PU's two-third ' a pun; this one's near done--that's providenti-al.
You got Prince Albert in a can? That stench is French essence-ial.*
*essence: gas
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Has anyone ever told you that you are TOO smart, John? Wow. (I'm a voracious Barth reader...where have you referenced him, or was that just a throwaway line? I know my Barth fans discussion group would want to see that!)
Great idea, great lines, and mostly great lines, but some could stand a rewrite to eliminate .pronunciational torquing needed to meeting.
Fave line: "I've yet to plague the players on tunes with doin's Camusian". Heh heh.
Thanks, Agrimorfee, Merry, Stan--you can torque me outta this, you can torgue me outta that. But let's face it, you can't torque me outta torquing.
No worries, JB ... I'm not really Torquemada of torquery I may sound. :-) (But maybe the comment acceptor here is ... my comment above shoud end as I'd have sworn it did before whacking the Send buton, "... needed to meet the meter." ) Oh well, as Joels' clay-footed friend, Miles, would say, "Sometimes you just have to say "What the ...'"
555 for free "to torque", though i don't really know what it means . . . but coming from you, Sir John, I'd rather not seek an explanation!
perfectly penned, pal
Outstanding stuff, John. A lot of great plays on words, and I agree with Meriadoc on the brilliance of the Camus line. Is it true that Richard Lederer wrote the preface to your book (Techno Babble, was it?) and now is too arrogant to read your parodies?
he he he he
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