Their tops are made of rubber
Their bottoms are made out of springs!
They're bouncy, trouncy, flouncy, pouncy
Fun! Fun! Fun! Fun! Fun!
But the most wonderful thing about tiggers is I'm the only one!
Their bottoms are made out of springs!
They're bouncy, trouncy, flouncy, pouncy
Fun! Fun! Fun! Fun! Fun!
But the most wonderful thing about tiggers is I'm the only one!
Posté à 13:49 - Permalien
5 commentaires :
Idiot ce post, c'était pour fêter Tiger...
quelle attention délicate, j'en suis touché ;)
Tu me lis encore, c'est moi qui suis touché :p
zekat59 atte hotmail daute comme .. si tu veux, ce sera + facile pour discuter
The Tiger
Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand and what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee?
Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
William Blake
Instinctivement, c'est à ce poème que je pense, si j'ai besoin de parler d'un tigre... :P
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