Bridget 02/01/11
Regards, from Wilhelmina
I know a woman named Bridget,
she'd laugh if I called her a saint.
She'll have a roll in the hay
any old day.
A good girl is what she ain't.
(Chorus)
Oh, Bridget is a bad, bad girl.
She's black stockings and lace
and paint on her face,
raspberry lips,
chains and whips.
She's my kind of woman,
my diamond, my pearl.
Oh, Bridget is a bad, bad girl.
My wife is a woman named Bridget
who goes into the garden and hoes.
She's a housewife by day,
pleasant and gay
but her virtue comes off with her clothes.
(Repeat Chorus)
The rhyme sheme in the second verse is skewed. The text seems off a bit too. Typo?
My wife is a woman named Bridget
who goes into the garden and women for rent.
She's a housewife by day,
pleasant and gay
but her virtue comes off with her clothes.
(Repeat Chorus)
Hi Wilhelmina,
Looking good :D
Interesting character sketch. "She's a housewife by day, pleasant and gay but her virtue comes off with her clothes."
That line has a lot of information; nice job.
What's the tune you hear here?
Thanks for sharing.
James
Hi, Mr. Eworm
She goes into the garden and HOES!!! I don't know where women for rent came from!!! Something was skewed in the stratosphere. Regards. Wilhelmina
"Women for rent" is what the profanity filter substitutes for h-o-e-s.
She goes into the garden and h-o-e-s.
It's the rock that gives the stream its music . . . and the stream that gives the rock its roll.
Thanks KR2. I'm a gardener so I'm going to have to watch myself with the h-o-e-s!! Love
Hello, KR. Greetings and Gratitude. Now that I k-n-o-w-s what happened to my h-o-e-s, I'll tell you the way I had it figured. Here g-o-e-s:
Censored 02/08/11
The SSG has a watchdog computer
that's sitting somewhere up in the sky.
It's been trained by its keepers
to sniff out any smut
that seems to be sneaking by.
I wrote a piece about Bridget
with some risqué words in part one.
In part two, Bridget goes into the yard
to get some gardening done.
That computer assumes
that I don't have the brains of a bird
and that I can't even spell
a single-syllable word.
When it saw the word ‘hoes',
it wondered what I meant,
it stuck in an ‘r' and a ‘w'
where there was no original intent,
said, ‘oh oh, bad word',
and changed it again to . . .
‘women for rent‘.
BUT
when my ‘hoes' was changed to . . .
‘women for hire‘,
WELL!
my rhyme scheme went askew
and my meter was shot all to . . .
‘mythical place with fire‘.
Now my lyrics are a wreck.
If that computer were a genuine person,
I'd wring its scrawny neck.
Regards, from Grrr
