Between the Pauls, there were some laughs
From some with valued autographs
And glimpses of the former staffs
Of Saturday Night Live.
Some old routines brought up to date,
Including some just second-rate,
Performed to help to celebrate
What’s managed to survive.
Paul Simon started with a song
To which we all could sing along
And with a voice no longer strong,
For harmony he’d strive.
Sir Paul, the final singing guest,
In dapper shirt and jet-black vest,
Despite his lessened pipes, impressed,
The audience alive.
For fifty years of SNL,
We’ve watched careers it helped propel
And since this wasn’t a farewell,
We hope it long may thrive.
St Pauls i see l, blocked liberal victory..Synonomous
Name with the blog, in which I claim..' that God is now
Moving..!! That trudeau will be losing!!
Paula’s proud pretentiousness was prevalent
perceptible, palpable, persnickety, provocatively
pathetic and putrid.
Peters,Peters all,
No Pauls!
A soft breeze from the nearby sea
lifted its fingers one sunny morn'
to cool the drowsy town
as I strolled along the quiet street
musing on life and greetings friends
I chanced to meet along the way.
I passed a quaint brown church
nestled among newer neighboring shops
its' stained glass windows caught the sun
and flung a millions diamond lights into the air
to form a backdrop
for a muted fairy chorus there.
Glancing aloft
I saw no visible bells
so whence came this refrain?
that slowly rose
to heaven, thinly sweet
and pausing, fell to earth again,
an answer came
these were the ghostly echoes
from the sweet voiced choir
who poured their voices up to him
along a golden stair of songs.
The angels reposing there
had caught the notes and hung them
in a garland around the church steeple
from souls who once the dim hushed aisles
had trod along their upward rise
to paradise and God!
There was a man named Pauls
Who was born near the Victoria falls
Had a male organ on his fore head
Which almost killed him dead
For the sacks hung over his eye balls