Dyslexia's birthday is December 30th

Have fun.
Happy bird-day alpha turkey. :-)

Happy birthday, dys!
No repeats of last year, hear? :wink:

In the early dawn a stallion white
prances the hills in the morning light.
His bridle is painted with thunder and gold,
orchids and dragons, pale knights of old.
He is the horse of the ages past.
And now the children run to see
the stallion on the hill,
bringing bags of apples
and of clover they have filled.
And the white horse tells his stories
of the days now past and gone
and the children stand a-wondering
believing every song.
How brightly glows the past.

When the sun is high comes a mare so red,
trampling the graves of the living and dead.
Her mantle is heavy with mirrors and glass,
all is reflected when the red mare does pass.
She is the horse of the here and now.
And now there is confusion
amongst the children on the hill.
They cling to one another
and no longer can be still.
While the red mare's voice is trembling
with a rare and mighty call,
the children start remembering
the bearers and the pall.
And though their many-colored sweaters
are reflected in the glass,
and though the sun shines down upon them,
they are frightened in the grass.
How stark is the here and now.

When night does fall comes a stallion black,
so proud and tall he never looks back.
He wears him no emeralds, silver and gold,
not even a covering to keep him from cold.
He is the horse of the years to come.
And I will get me down
before this steed upon my knees
and sing to him the sorrows
of a thousand centuries.
And the children now will scatter
as their mothers call them home,
for the sadness of the evening horse
no child has ever known.
And I will hang about him
a bell that's never rung
and thank him for the many words
which from his throat have never sprung.
And I'll thank God and all the angels
that the stallion of the evening,
the black horse of the future,
comes to earth but has no tongue.

 1971 Chandos Music (ASCAP)
J: Joan Baez: Joan Baez lyrics: Blessed Are lyrics: Three Horses lyrics

Yeah, when we de-pants Gus and paint his ass it'll be DayGlo-Pink this year!!

In the early dawn a stallion white
prances the hills in the morning light.
His bridle is painted with thunder and gold,
orchids and dragons, pale knights of old.
He is the horse of the ages past.
And now the children run to see
the stallion on the hill,
bringing bags of apples
and of clover they have filled.
And the white horse tells his stories
of the days now past and gone
and the children stand a-wondering
believing every song.
How brightly glows the past.

When the sun is high comes a mare so red,
trampling the graves of the living and dead.
Her mantle is heavy with mirrors and glass,
all is reflected when the red mare does pass.
She is the horse of the here and now.
And now there is confusion
amongst the children on the hill.
They cling to one another
and no longer can be still.
While the red mare's voice is trembling
with a rare and mighty call,
the children start remembering
the bearers and the pall.
And though their many-colored sweaters
are reflected in the glass,
and though the sun shines down upon them,
they are frightened in the grass.
How stark is the here and now.

When night does fall comes a stallion black,
so proud and tall he never looks back.
He wears him no emeralds, silver and gold,
not even a covering to keep him from cold.
He is the horse of the years to come.
And I will get me down
before this steed upon my knees
and sing to him the sorrows
of a thousand centuries.
And the children now will scatter
as their mothers call them home,
for the sadness of the evening horse
no child has ever known.
And I will hang about him
a bell that's never rung
and thank him for the many words
which from his throat have never sprung.
And I'll thank God and all the angels
that the stallion of the evening,
the black horse of the future,
comes to earth but has no tongue.

 1971 Chandos Music (ASCAP)
J: Joan Baez: Joan Baez lyrics: Blessed Are lyrics: Three Horses lyrics

Birthday dinner postponed
Dys and Diane were going to have a birthday dinner at my house. But Diane's shoulder was hurting so much, it had to be postponed.

We will reschedule next week. I can't wait for Dys' birthday present to arrive. You will be able to hear him laughing on A2K.

BBB

Happy Birthday, Dys.

We'll celebrate at some point!

damn straight we will

Edgar, I've not heard that song by Baez, I love the lyrics.

Dys, I am pleased to celebrate your birthday with a roast chicken marinated in orange juice, chili, cumin, garlic, and parsley (my niece is visiting, she is fixing the veggies), and will hoist a glass to you and Diane..

I celebrated dys's birthday by eating a chiliburger and tater tots at Sonic, washed down with a cherry limeade, nacherly.

I can relate edgar.

Just then Tom Paine himself
Came running from across the field
I'm sorry sir he said to me
I'm sorry for what she's done

Shoulder?

damn.

Happy B Day Dys!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SMOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOCHERS!


(can't you two stay healthy for a birthday?)

Wooohooo! Happy Bday Dys!

Happy Birthday, Dyslexia... here's a cowboy poem to give you a smile.

"The Old Bull"


(Rated PG-13, and written by an ol' bull that don't know how to spell)
copyright©2001, Michael Sorbonne Robinson


I'm just an ol' bull, but the fourman don't know
that the werklode is way out of hand.
He keeps addin' cows to this heard that I serve.
I'm the bizzyest bull in the land.

There once was a tyme I could set my alarm
for the reas'nable hour of 8,
but the boss's intenshun to bild up the heard
means, at six, I am wakin' too late.

From wee hours of morn, I am doin' my thing,
and, at midnite, I'm still werkin' hard.
I'm totally sinyew and mussel and horn,
ain't got leezhure time bildin' up lard.

No time for a sitcom; can't go to a show,
'cause my skedjule ain't got any breaks--
keep popping Viagra and vitamin E.
I'm just doin' whatever it takes.

It ain't at all personal. Like any job,
I am hereed and rusht 'til it's over.
I know that for each, single minit I save,
I'll have that much more tyme to munch clover.

Can't even remember my first luvin' date,
when my servis was mixed with afeckshun.
My purpose, in life is to werk 'til it's late,
with my pritty-near-worn-out erek'shun.

A bull ain't, at all, what it's cracked up to be.
There are times I've wisht I were a cow...
They've got leezhur and cough-ee breaks, time to relacks.
(Why, I can't even chat with you now.)

For the boss bott more cows. He's unloading them now.
I'm unhappy and know what I'll find:
I'll use each wakin' moment, performin' my task,
but my fate's that...I'll get more behind.

May the Bird of Paradise fly up yer nose,
May yer wife be plagued by runners, in her hose . . .

no, no, wait a minute . . . uhm . . .

They say it's yer birthday
Well it's my birthday too, yeah
They say it's yer birthday
Happy Birthday to you . . .


no, no, that ain't it . . . hmmmm . . .

Old Friends
Sit on the park bench like bookends . . .


Whoa ! ! ! Where did that **** come from . . .

anywaymanyhappyreturnsokseeyabye

Today's the day! I've been controlling my irresistibel urge to wish Dys a happy birthday for 10 days now, when this thread was first initiated. I can't hold it any longer.


Happy Birthday, Dys

Grapettes for everybody.

Happy Birthday! And may you have many more

Neither can I! There, all was released. So embarassing. Anyhow, here's to you, Dys! If you were here, we would make you a tofu cheesecake!