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WA2K Radio is now on the air

 
 
Letty
 
  1  
Reply Tue 10 May, 2005 03:27 pm
Goodnight, McT, you delightful man:

You're my funny valentine
Sweet comic valentine
You make me smile with my heart
Your looks are laughable
Unphotographable
Yet you're my favorite work of art
Is your figure less than greek
Is your mouth a little weak
When you open it to speak
Are you smart?
But don't change a hair for me
Not if you care for me
Stay little valentine stay
Each day is valentine's day!
0 Replies
 
Letty
 
  1  
Reply Tue 10 May, 2005 04:13 pm
Let me rephrase that, McTag:

YOU are not a funny valentine. That word "you're" should NOT have been in that song. Mad

Dedicated to the roofer who didn't show:


deep inside I've been force-fed lies
and only lead astray
I've been nailed to the wheel
and left behind and only cast away

now you can never break me
never take me
the lines that crack my face are real... blind

blind... my obsession drifts away
my obsession is my blind faith
my obsession drifts away
it is only my blind faith

abuse is the name of the ghost I ride
and I'm battered and not broke in
I've survived it all and never crawled
to rise back up in the end

now you can never break me
never take me
the lines that crack my face are real... blind

blind... my obsession drifts away
my obsession is my blind faith
my obsession drifts away
it is only my blind faith.

Well, listeners. It's not quite that bad, but I am so tired of trying to cope with getting someone who wants to WORK.

GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR
0 Replies
 
edgarblythe
 
  1  
Reply Tue 10 May, 2005 05:28 pm
Leonard Cohen was a prize-winning poet from Canada when he decided to record music. He found less than a warm reception, until Judy Collins recorded some of his songs and brought him on stage with her. Morbidly shy, at first, he had to be coaxed quite a bit. I bought his first record unheard, in 1968 and got hooked. When I first heard his THE TRAITOR, I became obsessed, playing it again and again for weeks at a time, and after a year or so layoff, doing it again.


Now the Swan it floated on the English river
Ah the Rose of High Romance it opened wide
A sun tanned woman yearned me through the summer
and the judges watched us from the other side

I told my mother "Mother I must leave you
preserve my room but do not shed a tear
Should rumour of a shabby ending reach you
it was half my fault and half the atmosphere"

But the Rose I sickened with a scarlet fever
and the Swan I tempted with a sense of shame
She said at last I was her finest lover
and if she withered I would be to blame

The judges said you missed it by a fraction
rise up and brace your troops for the attack
Ah the dreamers ride against the men of action
Oh see the men of action falling back

But I lingered on her thighs a fatal moment
I kissed her lips as though I thirsted still
My falsity had stung me like a hornet
The poison sank and it paralysed my will

I could not move to warn all the younger soldiers
that they had been deserted from above
So on battlefields from here to Barcelona
I'm listed with the enemies of love

And long ago she said "I must be leaving,
Ah but keep my body here to lie upon
You can move it up and down and when I'm sleeping
Run some wire through that Rose and wind the Swan"

So daily I renew my idle duty
I touch her here and there -- I know my place
I kiss her open mouth and I praise her beauty
and people call me traitor to my face
0 Replies
 
Letty
 
  1  
Reply Tue 10 May, 2005 05:48 pm
edgar, that's a strange song. I don't quite understand it!
0 Replies
 
djjd62
 
  1  
Reply Tue 10 May, 2005 06:53 pm
Steeleye Span: All Around My Hat

[Trad. arr. Hart / Prior / Knight / Johnson / Kemp]

Maddy Prior, vocals;
Peter Knight, fiddle, mandolin, backing vocals;
Tim Hart, guitar, backing vocals;
Bob Johnson, guitar, backing vocals;
Rick Kemp, bass;
Nigel Pegrum, drums.


Chorus
All around my hat I will wear the green willow
All around my hat for a twelve-month and a day
And if anyone should ask me the reason why I'm wearing it
It's all for my true love who's far far away

Fare thee well cold winter and fare thee well cold frost
Nothing have I gained but my own true love I've lost
I'll sing and I'll be merry when occasion I do see
He's a false deluding young man, let him go farewell he

The other night he brought me a fine diamond ring
But he thought to have deprived me of a far better thing
But I being careful like lovers ought to be
He's a false deluding young man, let him go farewell he

Chorus

Here's a half a pound of reasons, and a quarter pound of sense
A small sprig of time and as much of prudence
You mix them all together and you will plainly see
He's a false deluding young man, let him go farewell he

Chorus
0 Replies
 
djjd62
 
  1  
Reply Tue 10 May, 2005 06:55 pm
Wall Of Death
(R.E.M.'s version of this Richard Thompson song was featured on the 1994 Thompson tribute album "Beat The Retreat")

Let me ride on the wall of death one more time
Let me ride on the wall of death one more time
You can waste your time on the other rides
but this is the nearest to being alive
Let me take my chances on the Wall of Death

You can go with the crazy people in the crooked house
You can fly away on the rocket or spin in the mouse
The tunnel of love might amuse you
And Noah's Ark might confuse you but
Let me take my chances on the Wall of Death

On the Wall of Death
All the World is far from me
On the Wall of Death
It's the nearest to being free

Well you're going nowhere when you ride on the carousel
And maybe you're strong, but what's the use of ringing a bell
The switchback will make you crazy
Beware of the bearded lady
Oh let me take my chances on the Wall of Death

You are going nowhere when you ride on the carousel
And maybe you're strong, but what's the use of ringing a bell
The switchback will make you crazy
Beware of the bearded lady
Let me take my chances
Let me take my chances
Let me take my chances
0 Replies
 
djjd62
 
  1  
Reply Tue 10 May, 2005 06:56 pm
TOWER OF SONG
Leonard

Well my friends are gone and my hair is grey
I ache in the places where I used to play
And I'm crazy for love but I'm not coming on
I'm just paying my rent every day
Oh in the Tower of Song

I said to Hank Williams: how lonely does it get?
Hank Williams hasn't answered yet
But I hear him coughing all night long
A hundred floors above me
In the Tower of Song

I was born like this, I had no choice
I was born with the gift of a golden voice
And twenty-seven angels from the Great Beyond
They tied me to this table right here
In the Tower of Song

So you can stick your little pins in that voodoo doll
I'm very sorry, baby, doesn't look like me at all
I'm standing by the window where the light is strong
Ah they don't let a woman kill you
Not in the Tower of Song

Now you can say that I've grown bitter but of this you may be sure
The rich have got their channels in the bedrooms of the poor
And there's a mighty judgement coming, but I may be wrong
You see, you hear these funny voices
In the Tower of Song

I see you standing on the other side
I don't know how the river got so wide
I loved you baby, way back when
And all the bridges are burning that we might have crossed
But I feel so close to everything that we lost
We'll never have to lose it again

Now I bid you farewell, I don't know when I'll be back
There moving us tomorrow to that tower down the track
But you'll be hearing from me baby, long after I'm gone
I'll be speaking to you sweetly
From a window in the Tower of Song
Yeah my friends are gone and my hair is grey
I ache in the places where I used to play
And I'm crazy for love but I'm not coming on
I'm just paying my rent every day
Oh in the Tower of Song
0 Replies
 
djjd62
 
  1  
Reply Tue 10 May, 2005 07:03 pm
marianne faithful does the best version of tower of song i've ever heard
0 Replies
 
djjd62
 
  1  
Reply Tue 10 May, 2005 07:05 pm
Six O'clock News
kathleen edwards

Copper on the corner and he loaded two rounds
And I can't cross the line to talk you down
And Peter, sweet baby, where'd you get that gun?
You spend half your life trying to turn the other half around

And I tried to come clean, but I guess its no use
Your face is all over the six o'clock news
They cleared the streets and then they closed the schools
I can't even get inside

Did you lose your head when the FARM went down?
or was it when your daddy died after he moved to town
And I know your mama calls you good for nothin'
She says her baby is a Failer and she don't want you callin'

And I tried to come clean, but I guess its no use
Your face is all over the six o'clock news
They cleared the streets and then they closed the schools
I can't even get inside

and Peter, sweet baby, there's just something that I gotta say to you
I'm gonna have your baby this coming June
We could get a little place down by Gilmour Park
You could do a little time and save my broken heart

And I tried to come clean, but I guess its no use
Your face is all over the six o'clock news
They cleared the streets and then they closed the schools
I can't even get inside

I tried to come clean, but I guess its no use
Copper went ahead and he just shot you through
Now you're lying dead on the avenue
I can't feel my broken heart

And I can't feel my broken heart
0 Replies
 
djjd62
 
  1  
Reply Tue 10 May, 2005 07:10 pm
The Ballad of the Soldier's Wife
Marianne Faithfull Lyrics

What was sent to the soldier's wife
From the ancient city of Prague ?
From Prague came a pair of high heeled shoes,
With a kiss or two came the high heeled shoes
From the ancient city of Prague.

What was sent to the soldier's wife
From Oslo over the sound ?
From Oslo he sent her a collar of fur,
How it pleases her, the little collar of fur
From Oslo over the sound.

What was sent to the soldier's wife
From the wealth of Amsterdam ?
From Amsterdam, he got her a hat,
She looked sweet in that,
In her little Dutch hat
From the wealth of Amsterdam.

What was sent to the soldier's wife
From Brussels in Belgian land ?
From Brussels he sent her the laces so rare
To have and to wear,
All those laces so rare
From Brussels in Belgian land.

What was sent to the soldier's wife
From Paris, city of light ?
From Paris he sent her a silken gown,
It was ended in town, that silken gown,
From Paris, city of light.

What was sent to the soldier's wife
From the South, from Bucharest ?
From Bucharest he got her this shirt
Embroidered and pert, that Rumanian shirt
From the South, from Bucharest.

What was sent to the soldier's wife
From the far-off Russian land ?
From Russia he sent her a widow's veil
For her dead to bewail in her widow's veil
From the far-off Russian land,
From the far-off Russian land.
0 Replies
 
djjd62
 
  1  
Reply Tue 10 May, 2005 07:12 pm
Times Square
Marianne Faithfull

In a tired part of the city
Hiding from the fast talk
Watch 'Don't walk' to 'Walk'
Easy when you're dreaming
Staring at the movies
Standing in a circle,
Laughing at the wrong time.

If alcohol could take me there.
I'd take a shot a minute
And be there by the hour.

Take a walk around Times Square
With a pistol in my suitcase
And my eyes on the TV.

In a car taking a back seat
Staring out the window
Thinking about danger.
Playing in a wrong world
Fighting ?- but I'm not free.
Talking on the telephone
Talking about you and me.

If Jesus Christ could take me here
I'd fall dawn on my knees,
Have no questions to His answers.

Take a walk around Times Square
With a pistol in my suitcase
And my eyes on the TV.

Alcohol could take me there.
I'd take a shot a minute
And be there by the hour.

Take a walk around Times Square
With a pistol in my suitcase
And my eyes on the TV.

And if I die gaining my senses
Wake up in a hotel
Staring at the ceiling.
0 Replies
 
djjd62
 
  1  
Reply Tue 10 May, 2005 07:13 pm
The Last Thing on My Mind
Marianne Faithfull

It's a lesson too late for the learning
Made of sand, made of sand
In the wink of an eye my soul is turning
In your hand, in your hand.

Are you going away with no word of farewell,
Will there be not a trace left behind ?
I could have loved you better, didn't mean to be unkind
You know that was the last thing on my mind.

You've got reasons a-plenty for going,
This I know, this I know.
For the weeds have been steadily growing,
Please don't go, please don't go.

Are you going away with no word of farewell,
Will there be not a trace left behind ?
I could have loved you better, didn't mean to be unkind,
You know that was the last thing on my mind.

As I lie in my bed in the mornin'
Without you, without you.
Every song in my breast dies a born-in
Without you, without you.

Are you going away with no word of farewell,
Will there be not a trace left behind ?
I could have loved you better, didn't mean to be unkind
You know that was the last thing on my mind.
0 Replies
 
djjd62
 
  1  
Reply Tue 10 May, 2005 07:14 pm
The Ballad of Lucy Jordan
Marianne Faithfull

The morning sun touched lightly on the eyes of Lucy Jordan
In a white suburban bedroom in a white suburban town
As she lay there 'neath the covers dreaming of a thousand lovers
Till the world turned to orange and the room went spinning round.

At the age of thirty-seven she realised she'd never
Ride through Paris in a sports car with the warm wind in her hair.
So she let the phone keep ringing and she sat there softly singing
Little nursery rhymes she'd memorised in her daddy's knees and chair.

Her husband, he's off to work and the kids are off to school,
And there are, oh, so many ways for her to spend the day.
She could clean the house for hours or rearrange the flowers
Or run naked through the shady street screaming all the way.

At the age of thirty-seven she realised she'd never
Ride through Paris in a sports car with the warm wind in her hair
So she let the phone keep ringing as she sat there softly singing
Pretty nursery rhymes she'd memorised in her daddy's knees and chair.

The evening sun touched gently on the eyes of Lucy Jordan
On the roof top where she climbed when all the laughter grew too loud
And she bowed and curtsied to the man who reached and offered her his hand,
And he led her down to the long white car that waited past the crowd.

At the age of thirty-seven she knew she'd found forever
As she rode along through Paris with the warm wind in her hair ...
0 Replies
 
Letty
 
  1  
Reply Tue 10 May, 2005 08:12 pm
dj, I want you to know something, my friend. If I weren't sooooo sleepy tonight, I would try and read through every lyric. Suffice it to say that you are a very important part of our cyber radio.

Perhaps, tomorrow, edgar will explain his song to us here.

I love you all, and that is true.

Goodnight.

From Letty with love

One final closing line:

I didn't know about Roald Dahl's Norwegian descent--a Brit with a background. Perhaps we can learn more tomorrow about this fabulous author.
0 Replies
 
Walter Hinteler
 
  1  
Reply Wed 11 May, 2005 12:19 am
Good morning, everyone, on this Wednesday!

Mesdames:

Bonjour, Madame Lundi
Comment va Madame Mardi ?
Très bien Madame Mercredi
Dites à Madame Jeudi
De venir Vendredi
Danser Samedi
Dans la salle de Dimanche.



And for the messsieurs, there's this little chanson by Catherine Le Forestier:

Bonjour Monsieur

Tu as tiré les rideaux
Tu as tiré sur mon cœur
Et moi je suis venue vers toi
Bonjour Monsieur, je t'aime

Tu t'es couché là
Je me suis couchée près de toi
Ah, ah, ah...
Bonjour Monsieur, je t'aime

Tu as ouvert les bras
Et je suis restée près de toi
Ah, ah, ah...
Bonjour Monsieur, je t'aime

Bonjour Monsieur, je t'aime
Bonjour Monsieur, je t'aime
0 Replies
 
Francis
 
  1  
Reply Wed 11 May, 2005 12:26 am
Nice, Walter!

And as we have a friend there, CJ...

De San Diego à Chicago

Paroles et Musique: Catherine Le Forestier
"Le pays de ton corps"


Il a dû coucher cette nuit aux frontières de Californie
Et demain il s'éveillera dans le désert d'Arizona
Est-ce qu'il se souviendra des pêches que nous mangions et de l'eau fraîche
Quand le soleil sera trop chaud
De San Diego oh oh à Chicago

Je le vois maintenant marchant petit point au milieu des champs
Le maïs doré pousse bien au Texas le long des chemins
Un jour il m'avait raconté qu'on ne voit rien de chaque côté
Tellement les épis poussent hauts
De San Diego oh oh à Chicago

Il a fait beaucoup de chemin il tient les rênes d'une main
Sur les rives du Mississippi une jolie fille lui sourit
Maintenant il m'a oublié et le soleil a effacé
La trace de ma bouche sur sa peau
De San Diego oh oh à Chicago

Qu'importe le lieu, le jour et l'heure les larmes ont la même couleur
Sur les joues blanches ou noires de peau et que les hommes soient laids ou beaux
Tous les matins quand ils s'éveillent ils ont tous le même soleil
Et souffrent avec les mêmes mots
De San Diego oh oh à Chicago
0 Replies
 
hebba
 
  1  
Reply Wed 11 May, 2005 02:25 am
Roald Dahl.."Danny Champion Of The World" is a lovely book.
"You Only Live Twice" is a lousy screenplay.

Sometimes, artists can´t choose their commisions.
0 Replies
 
cicerone imposter
 
  1  
Reply Wed 11 May, 2005 02:46 am
All this foreign language here which is greek to me. I'm sure there are some redeeming quality to those words, and I'll wait until somebody translate them. LOL As you were.....
0 Replies
 
bobsmythhawk
 
  1  
Reply Wed 11 May, 2005 04:55 am
Roald Dahl

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.


Roald Dahl (September 13, 1916-November 23, 1990) was a British novelist and short story author of Norwegian descent, famous both as a writer of children's fiction as well as adult and horror fiction. Among his most popular books are Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and Kiss Kiss.
Contents [showhide]




Biography


Childhood

Roald Dahl was born in Llandaff, Wales on September 13,1916 to Norwegian parents, Harald Dahl and Sofie Magdalene Dahl (née Hesselberg). His father, who died in 1920, was adamant that his children be educated in English schools, but because the family still lived in Wales his first school was Llandaff Cathedral School. At Llandaff he was fond of a sweet (candy) shop which would later influence Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Thereafter he was sent to several boarding schools, which was an unpleasant experience for him. His dislike for boarding schools due to the intimidation that children experienced and the bullying by co-students, is reflected in his book Matilda.

When Roald Dahl was 9, he was sent to St Peter's Preparatory school in Weston-super-Mare, and from 13 he was educated at Repton School, where he was a fag (personal servant) for a prefect, became captain of the school Fives team and developed an interest in photography. During his childhood he spent his summer holidays in his parents' native Norway. His childhood is the subject of his autobiographical work, Boy: Tales of Childhood.

In 1920, when Roald was still only 13 years old, his seven-year-old sister Astri died from appendicitis. A few weeks later his father Harald died of pneumonia at the age of 57. But his mother was determined to keep the family in England rather than head back to Norway and live with her relatives, because of her husband's wish to have their children educated in English schools.

At the age of eight, Roald and four of his friends were caned by the headmaster after putting a dead mouse in a jar of sweets at the local sweet shop which was owned by a loathsome, mean old woman called Mrs Pratchett.

From 1923 to 1929, Roald attended St Peter's Prepatory School, a private school in the seaside town of Weston-super-Mare. He was caned there once after being wrongly accused of cheating in an exam.

From 1929 to 1934, Roald attended Repton Public School in Derbyshire where he worked as a 'fag' for older boys. His mother expected him to attend university after leaving school, but instead he found a job with Shell Oil which sent him to other parts of the world.


Adult life

After finishing his schooling, he spent three weeks hiking through Newfoundland with a group called the Public Schools' Exploring Society. In July 1934 he joined the Shell Oil Company. Following two years of training in the UK he was transferred to Dar-es-Salaam, Tanganyika. Along with only two other Shell employees in the entire territory, he lived in luxury in the Shell House outside Dar-es-Salaam, with a cook and personal servants. While supplying oil to customers across Tanganyika, he faced mambas and lions, amongst other wildlife.

In August 1939, as World War II was imminent, plans were made to round up the hundreds of Germans in Dar-es-Salaam. The fifteen or so Englishmen in Dar-es-Salaam, including Dahl, were made officers each commanding a platoon of askaris of the King's African Rifles. Dahl was uneasy about this and having to round up hundreds of German civilians, but managed to complete his orders.

It was soon after this incident, in November 1939, that he joined the Royal Air Force. After a 600-mile car journey from Dar-es-Salaam to Nairobi, he was accepted for flight training with 16 other men, 13 of whom would later die in air combat. With 7 hours and 40 minutes experience in his De Havilland Tiger Moth he flew solo, and hugely enjoyed watching the wildlife of Kenya during his flights. He continued on to advanced flying training at the huge Habbaniya base (50 miles west of Baghdad) in Iraq. Following six months of flying Hawker Harts he was made a Pilot Officer and assigned to 80 Squadron, flying obsolete Gloster Gladiators. Dahl was surprised to find that he would not be trained in aerial combat, or even how to fly the Gladiator.

On September 19, 1940, Dahl was to fly his Gladiator from Abu Suweir in Egypt, on to Amiriya to refuel, and again to Fouka in Libya for a second refuelling. From there he would fly to 80 Squadron's forward airstrip 30 miles south of Mersah Matruh. On the final leg, he could not find the airstrip and, running low on fuel and with night approaching, he was forced to attempt a landing in the desert. Unfortunately, the undercarriage hit a boulder and the plane crashed, fracturing his skull, smashing his nose in, and blinding him. He managed to drag himself away from the blazing wreckage and passed out. Later, he wrote about the crash for his first published work (see below). It was found in a RAF inquiry into the crash that the location he had been told to fly to was completely wrong, and he had mistakenly been sent instead to the no man's land between the British and Italian forces.

Dahl was rescued and taken to a first-aid post in Mersah Matruh, where he regained conciousness (but not his sight), and was then taken by train to the Royal Navy hospital in Alexandria. There he fell in love with a nurse, Mary Welland, who was the first person he saw when he regained his sight after eight weeks. The doctors said he had no chance of flying again, but in February 1941, five months after he was admitted to the hospital, he was discharged and passed fully fit for flying duties. By this time, 80 Squadron were at Elevsis, near Athens, Greece, fighting alongside the British Expeditionary Force against the Axis forces with no hope of defeating them. Now upgraded to the Hawker Hurricane, in April 1941 Dahl flew one across the Mediterranean Sea to finally join his squadron in Greece, six months after becoming a member.

There he met a cynical Corporal who questioned how long his brand-new aircraft would survive, along with just 14 other Hurricanes and four Bristol Blenheims in the whole of Greece, against around a thousand enemy aircraft. 80 Squadron's Squadron Leader was similarly unenthusiastic about having just one new pilot. However, he became friends with David Coke, who, had he not been killed later in the war, would have become the Earl of Leicester.

Dahl saw his first action over Chalcis, where Junkers Ju 88s were bombing shipping. With just his lone Hurricane against the six bombers, he managed to shoot one down. He writes about all these incidents in his amusing and touching autobiography Going Solo.

He later saw service in Syria and then worked for military intelligence. He ended the war as a Wing Commander.

He began writing when in 1942 he was transferred to Washington as Assistant Air Attache. His first published work, in the 1 August 1942 issue of the Saturday Evening Post was Shot Down Over Libya, describing the crash of his Gloster Gladiator. His original title for the work was A Piece of Cake - the title was changed to sound more dramatic, despite the fact the crash had nothing to do with enemy action.

He was married to Hollywood actress Patricia Neal (The Day the Earth Stood Still, Hud) from 1953 to 1983. They had five children, including author Tessa Dahl. Tessa's daughter, and inspiration for the "helpmate" character in The BFG is model and author Sophie Dahl. In 1983 he married Felicity Ann Crosland (née d'Abreu).

He died of leukaemia at his home, Gipsy House, in Great Missenden, Buckinghamshire and is buried in the cemetery at the parish church of St Peter and St Paul there. In his honour, the Roald Dahl Children's Gallery was opened at Bucks County Museum in nearby Aylesbury. Dahl's charitable commitments in the fields of neurology, haematology and literacy have been continued after his death by his literary estate, through the Roald Dahl Foundation. In June 2005 the Roald Dahl Museum and Story Centre will open in Great Missenden to celebrate the work of Roald Dahl and advance his work in literacy.

Writing

Inspired by a meeting with C. S. Forester, Dahl's first published work was Shot Down Over Libya, a story about his wartime adventures, which was bought by the Saturday Evening Post for $1,000 and propelled him into a career as a writer.

His first children's book was The Gremlins, about mischievous little creatures that were part of RAF folklore. The book was commissioned by Walt Disney for a film that was never made, and published in 1943. Dahl went on to create some of the best-loved children's stories of the 20th century, such as Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Matilda and James and the Giant Peach.

He also had a successful parallel career as the writer of macabre adult short stories, usually with a dark sense of humour and a surprise ending. Many were originally written for American magazines such as Ladies Home Journal, Harper's, Playboy and The New Yorker, then subsequently collected by Dahl into anthologies, gaining world-wide acclaim for the author. Dahl wrote more than 60 short stories and they have appeared in numerous collections, some only being published in book form after his death. See List of Roald Dahl short stories.

One of his more famous adult stories, The Smoker (also known as Man from the South), was filmed as an episode of Alfred Hitchcock Presents, and also adapted into Quentin Tarantino's segment of the 1995 film Four Rooms. His short story collection Tales of the Unexpected was adapted to a successful TV series of the same name. A number of his short stories are supposed to be extracts from the diary of his (fictional) Uncle Oswald, a rich gentleman whose sexual exploits form the subject of these stories.

For a brief period in the 1960s Dahl wrote screenplays to make money. Two of his screenplays?-the James Bond film You Only Live Twice and Chitty Chitty Bang Bang?-were adaptations of novels by Ian Fleming, and he adapted his own work into Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (1971).

Memories with Food at Gipsy House, written with his wife Felicity and published posthumously in 1991, is a mixture of recipes, family reminiscences and Dahl's musings on favourite subjects such as chocolate, onions, and claret.

Many of his children's books have illustrations by Quentin Blake.

Children's fiction

Dahl's works for children are usually told from the point of view of a child, typically involve adult villains, usually women, who hate and mistreat children, and feature at least one "good" adult to counteract the villain(s). The Witches and Matilda are two examples of this formula. The BFG follows it in a more analogical way with the good giant (or BFG; Big Friendly Giant) representing the "good adult" archetype and the other giants being the "bad adults." This formula is also slightly evident in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.


Children's stories

* The Gremlins (1943)
* James and the Giant Peach (1961) Made into a live-action/animated film in 1996.
* Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (1964) Film versions: Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory (1971) and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (2005)
* The Magic Finger (1966)
* Fantastic Mr Fox (1970)
* Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator (1972) A sequel to Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
* Danny the Champion of the World (1975) Made into a live-action film, starring Jeremy Irons in 1989.
* The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar and Six More (1977)
* The Enormous Crocodile (1978)
* The Twits (1980)
* George's Marvelous Medicine (1981)
* The BFG (1982) Made into an animated film in 1989.
* The Witches (1983) Made into a film The Witches starring Anjelica Huston in 1990.
* The Giraffe and the Pelly and Me (1985)
* Matilda (1988) Made into a live-action film 'Matilda' in 1996.
* Esio Trot (1989)
* The Minpins (1991)
* The Vicar of Nibbleswicke (1991)



Children's poetry

* Revolting Rhymes (1982)
* Dirty Beasts (1983)
* Rhyme Stew (1989)



Adult fiction


Novels

* Sometime Never: A Fable for Supermen (1948)
* My Uncle Oswald (1979)


Short story collections

* Over to You: Ten Stories of Flyers and Flying (1946)
* Someone Like You (1953)
* Kiss Kiss (1960)
* Twenty-Nine Kisses from Roald Dahl (1969)
* Switch Bitch (1974)
* Tales of the Unexpected (1979)
* More Tales of the Unexpected (1980)
* The Best of Roald Dahl (1978)
* Roald Dahl's Book of Ghost Stories (1983). Edited with an introduction by Dahl.
* Ah, Sweet Mystery of Life: The Country Stories of Roald Dahl (1989)
* The Collected Short Stories of Dahl (1991)
* Two Fables (1986). "Princess and the Poacher" and "Princess Mammalia".
* The Great Automatic Grammatizator (1997). (Known in the USA as The Umbrella Man and Other Stories).
* The Mildenhall Treasure (2000)

See List of Roald Dahl short stories.

Non-fiction

* Boy - Tales of Childhood (1984. An autobiography up to the age of 16, looking particularly at schooling in Britain in the early part of the 20th century)
* Going Solo (1986). Continuation of his autobiography, in which he goes to work for Shell and spends some time working in Tanzania before joining the War effort and becoming one of the last Allied pilots to withdraw from Greece during the German invasion.
* Memories with Food at Gipsy House (1991)
* Roald Dahl's Guide to Railway Safety (1991)
* My Year (1993)


Play

* The Honeys (1955). Produced at the Longacre Theater on Broadway.


Film scripts

* You Only Live Twice (1967)
* Chitty Chitty Bang Bang (1968)
* The Night Digger (1971)
* Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (1971)

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roald_Dahl
0 Replies
 
bobsmythhawk
 
  1  
Reply Wed 11 May, 2005 05:34 am
Did you read all that? Of course I did otherwise how could I have typed it. You didn't type it. All you did was cut and paste. Well, I just wanted to sound like I'm busy. Hah, you're as busy as a bear in hibernation. Well keep it quiet or they'll show us something in a door. Pretend you're busy and give the listeners a song. Gotcha.

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang

Jeremy: What a funny noise it's making!
Caractacus: It's talking to us--all engines talk!
Jemima: What's it saying?
It's saying Chitty chitty, chitty chitty, chitty chitty, chitty chitty, chitty chitty,
(Bang - Bang)
Bang Bang!
chitty chitty
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.

Chitty Bang Bang Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
Chitty Bang Bang Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
Chitty Bang Bang Chitty Chitty Bang Bang

Driving!Oh you pretty Chitty Bang Bang,
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
We love you.
And, in
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
What we'll do.

Near, far, in our motor car Oh what a happy time we'll spend.
Bang Bang Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
Our fine four fendered friend.
Bang Bang Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
Our fine four fendered friend.

Chitty Bang Bang
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
Chitty Bang Bang
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
Chitty Bang Bang
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang

Oh you pretty Chitty Bang Bang
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
We love you.
And, in
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
What we'll do.

Near, far, in our motor car
Oh what a happy time we'll spend.
Bang Bang Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
Our fine four fendered friend.
Bang Bang Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
Our fine four fendered friend.

Your sleek as a thoroughbred.
Your seats are a feather bed.
You'll turn everybody's head today.
We'll glide on our motor trip
With pride in our ownership
The envy of all we survey.

Oh Chitty You Chitty
Pretty Chitty Bang Bang
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
We love you.
And Chitty, in Chitty
Pretty Chitty Bang Bang
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang what we'll do.

Near Chitty, far Chitty, in our motor car Oh what a happy time we'll spend.
Bang Bang Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
Our fine four fendered friend.
Bang Bang Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
Our fine four fendered friend.....(hold)

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang

Fine four fendered Chitty Chitty friend.
0 Replies
 
 

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