Lola by Todd Clark for November 10, 2012

  1. D4a5a14f f69d 431f a7b7 321b5406dd5d
    Jkiss  over 11 years ago

    It’s old and loud and continues to make disturbing noises.

     •  Reply
  2. Missing large
    rini1946  over 11 years ago

    thanks never knew why before but looked it up a good story

     •  Reply
  3. Viking
    steelersneo  over 11 years ago

    Walkin’ down the street, the ladies all be lookin’ As I pass they say, “Hey what’s cookin’?” I say nothin’ much, but they don’t care, cuz @ my feet, they continue to stare… Hey ladies do ya mind, my eyes are up here, but it ain’t their fault, I’m rockin’ crazy fresh footwear!

    Footy Scent is Bringin’ back, Socks and Sandals what, what, what Socks and sandals bringin’ back, socks with sandals what, what, what Socks and Sandals

    Some haters say that look was never in I say no disrespect or I’ll kick you in the shin I walk on by and say whatever, random! Now I’m inside his head like my socks inside my sandals.

    Cuz im bringin’ back socks and sandals what, what, what Socks and sandals! bringin’ back, socks and sandals! What, what, what? Socks and Sandals!

    Hush puppy break it down for the fellas @ home!

    Well, well, well ya dont have to worry ‘bout clippin’ your toenails, and your feet won’t get slimy if you step on a snail. Socks add a little bit of mystery, they prevent your toes from gettin’ blistery! And here’s one more thing, just so you know, when she asks for your digits, she means your toes!

    Cuz I’m bringin back, socks and sandals what, what, what socks and sandals bringin’ back, socks and sandals what, what what socks and sandals

    Flip flip, and some flippin socks Toe sandals, ain’t no scandals moccasins mocasins? You’re out of ladies.

    Bringin back, socks and sandals! What what what? Socks and sandals! Bringin’ back socks and sandals! What what what? Socks and sandals! And we look so good in sandals(I know)

     •  Reply
  4. Img 20230615 200500219 hdr  2
    Saucy1121 Premium Member over 11 years ago

    My grandfather’s clockWas too large for the shelf,So it stood ninety years on the floor;It was taller by halfThan the old man himself,Though it weighed not a pennyweight more.It was bought on the mornOf the day that he was born,It was always his treasure and pride;

    But it stopped shortNever to go again,When the old man died.Ninety years without slumbering,Tick, tock, tick, tock,His life seconds numbering,Tick, tock, tick, tock,It stopped shortNever to go again,When the old man died.

    In watching its pendulumSwing to and fro,Many hours had he spent while a boy;And in childhood and manhoodThe clock seemed to know,And share both his grief and his joy.And it struck twenty-fourWhen he entered at the door,With a blooming and beautiful bride;

    But it stopped shortNever to go again,When the old man died.Ninety years without slumbering,Tick, tock, tick, tock,His life seconds numbering,Tick, tock, tick, tock,It stopped shortNever to go again,When the old man died.

    Ninety years without slumbering,Tick, tock, tick, tock,His life seconds numbering,Tick, tock, tick, tock,It stopped shortNever to go again,When the old man died.

    My grandfather saidThat of those he could hire,Not a servant so faithful he found;For it wasted no time,And had but one desire,At the close of each week to be wound.And it kept in its place,Not a frown upon its face,And its hand never hung by its side.

    But it stopped shortNever to go again,When the old man died.Ninety years without slumbering,Tick, tock, tick, tock,His life seconds numbering,Tick, tock, tick, tock,It stopped shortNever to go again,When the old man died.

    It rang an alarmIn the dead of the night,An alarm that for years had been dumb;And we knew that his spiritWas pluming his flight,That his hour of departure had come.Still the clock kept the time,With a soft and muffled chime,As we silently stood by his side. But it stopped shortNever to go again,When the old man died.Ninety years without slumbering,Tick, tock, tick, tock,His life seconds numbering,Tick, tock, tick, tock,It stopped shortNever to go again,When the old man died.

    By Henry Clay Work

     •  Reply
Sign in to comment

More From Lola