The Special Category

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An optional explanation about the anagram in green, the subject is in black, the anagram is in red.

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I could wile away the hours
Conferrin' with the flowers
Consultin' with the rain
And my head I'd be scratchin'
While my thoughts were busy hatchin'
If I only had a brain.

I'd unravel ev'ry riddle
For any individ'le
In trouble or in pain.
With the thoughts you'd be thinkin'
You could be another Lincoln,
If you only had a brain.

Oh I could tell you why
The ocean's near the shore,
I could think of things I never thunk before
And then I'd sit and think some more.

I would not be just a nuffin'
My head all full of stuffin'
My heart all full of pain.
I would dance and be merry
Life would be ding-a-derry
If I only had a brain.


When a man's an empty kettle
He should be on his mettle
And yet I'm torn apart,
Just because I'm presumin'
That I could be kind of human
If I only had a heart.

I'd be tender, I'd be gentle
And awful sentimental
Regarding love and art,
I'd be friends with the sparrows
And the boy that shoots the arrows
If I only had a heart.

Picture me, a balcony
Above a voice sings low,
"Wherefore art thou Romeo?"
I hear a beat how sweet!

Just to register emotion, jealousy, devotion
And really feel the part,
I could stay young and chipper
And I'd lock it with a zipper
If I only had a heart.


I could be another Lincoln
Or wily Willy Clinton
For ninety years I'd reign,
I would be a fine orator
And a smoother operator
If I only had a brain.

I would dance like Fred Astaire
Tell lies like Tony Blair
And act like Michael Caine.
I'd fulfill my folks' ambition,
Hunt for higher intuition
If I only had a brain.

Hah! I can't tell you why
I'm short of thought 'n' that's the truth
It could've been an injury I had in youth,
Confused? Why buddy, so am I - huh?

I would henceforth be unfuddled
Be fluent and unmuddled
Thorn-sharp 'n' not inane,
I'd be wary and defensive
Never churlish or offensive
If I only had a brain.


When a man's an empty vessel
His conscience he can't wrestle
That's why I act the part,
But though I'm a liar
I could offer you desire
If I only had a heart.

I would smile and really mean it
I've a soul (I've just not seen it),
Be popular 'n' smart,
Write a lover's diction-ary
Get the hots for flirty Cherie
If I only had a heart.

I'd be grand, guitar in hand
Or maybe a hot banjo
Do a song played rather low
I get off then, to No.Ten

I'm as wooden as a puppet, look just like a muppet,
I'm deader than Mozart,
But I'd be an honest daddy
And not be the token baddie
If I only had a heart.


Bridge Over Trouble Water

When youíre weary, feeling small,
When tears are in your eyes, I will dry them all;
Iím on your side. When times get rough
And friends just canít be found,
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down.
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down.

When youíre down and out,
When youíre on the street,
When evening falls so hard
I will comfort you.
Iíll take your part.
When darkness comes
And pain is all around,
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down.
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down.

Sail on silvergirl,
Sail on by.
Your time has come to shine.
All your dreams are on their way.
See how they shine
If you need a friend
Iím sailing right behind.

Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind.
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind.


When a hurricane hits New Orleans,
And you've got to evacuate, I'll alliterate.
I'm on your side.
When the levee breaks,
and sewage floods your town.
Like a weird lady yodeler,
I will sing this song.
Like a weird lady yodeler,
I will sing this song.

When you have to leave
your terrier dog and bird behind,
and bodies are floating down your river-street.
I'll render aid:
I will babble on.
When the deluge is unbearably absurd,
And you're under water.
Like a motley fool,
I will cheer you up.
Like a motley fool,
I will cheer you up.

When FEMA ignores you for a week,
Bush regrets, "er, err..we've wet the oil,"
and bumbler Mr. Brown resigns,
I'm on your side.
I'll weave an irreverent riddle.
Don't fret. I'll jumble words.

Like a witty, morbid wordsmith,
I will anagram your name.
Like a witty, morbid wordsmith,
I will anagram your name.

[*tweedle = to entice through the use of music]


[The complete list of Shakespeare's plays anagrammed into a sonnet, which contains these additional constraints:

  1. Excluding the word 'Shakespeare', it only uses popular words from the Shakespearean verse which have a frequency of 15 appearances and up;
  2. It's an acrostic (including the title) of Shakespeare's nickname;
  3. It contains an anagram in line 8 (marked in italics) of Shakespeare's birth place, Stratford-upon-Avon.]

A Midsummer Night's Dream
All's Well That Ends Well
Anthony and Cleopatra
As You Like It
Hamlet, Prince of Denmark
Julius Caesar
Love's Labours Lost
King Henry IV
King Henry V
King Henry VI
King Henry VIII
King John
King Lear
King Richard II
King Richard III
Measure for Measure
Much Ado About Nothing
Othello, Moor of Venice
Pericles, Prince of Tyre
Romeo and Juliet
The Comedy of Errors
The Merchant of Venice
The Merry Wives of Windsor
The Taming of the Shrew
The Tempest
The Two Gentlemen of Verona
Timon of Athens
Titus Andronicus
Troilus and Cressida
Twelfth Night (What You Will)
Winter's Tale

The Divine Virtues of author William Shakespeare
He spoke of kings - yet he himself was one;
Engaged in rhyme for Love - and won much love.
In grave times he brought calm; in cold - the sun:
Main view where cheer's in but one thought thereof.
Might one small human crack his cunning skill?
Or, in an angry envy bound to fail,
Resort to fierce conceit and call this will
To pick on art profound, vast work to rail?
A certain error's found in here, methinks:
Like fine aged wine, 'tis not to madly stir,
But rather to enjoy this ancient drink
As welcome merit of our English sir.
Rejoice, all merry gems, with every part;
Delight my mind and justly claim my heart.


'Don't Let's Be Beastly To The Germans' - Noel Coward

We must be kind, and with an open mind
We must endeavour to find a way
To let the Germans know that when the war is over
They are not the ones who'll have to pay.
We must be sweet, and tactful and discreet
And when they've suffered defeat
We mustn't let them feel upset
Or ever get the feeling that we're cross with them or hate them,
Our future policy must be to reinstate them.

Don't let's be beastly to the Germans
When our victory is ultimately won,
It was just those nasty Nazis who persuaded them to fight
And their Beethoven and Bach are really far worse than their bite
Let's be meek to them, and turn the other cheek to them
And try to bring out their latent sense of fun.
Let's give them full air parity
And treat the rats with charity,
But don't let's be beastly to the Hun.

We must be just, and win their love and trust
And in addition we must be wise
And ask the conquered lands to join our hands to aid them.
That would be a wonderful surprise.
For many years they've been in floods of tears
Because the poor little dears
Have been so wronged and only longed
To cheat the world, deplete the world
And beat the world to blazes.
This is the moment when we ought to sing their praises.

Don't let's be beastly to the Germans
When we've definitely got them on the run
Let us treat them very kindly as we would a valued friend
We might send them out some bishops as a form of lease and lend,
Let's be sweet to them, and day by day repeat to them
That 'sterilization' simply isn't done.
Let's help the dirty swine again
To occupy the Rhine again,
But don't let's be beastly to the Hun.

Don't let's be beastly to the Germans
When the age of peace and plenty has begun.
We must send them steel and oil and coal and everything they need
For their peaceable intentions can be always guaranteed.
Let's employ with them a sort of 'strength through joy' with them,
They're better than us at honest manly fun.
Let's let them feel they're swell again,
And bomb us all to hell again,
But don't let's be beastly to the Hun.

Don't let's be beastly to the Germans
For you can't deprive a gangster of his gun
Though they've been a little naughty,
To the Czechs and Poles and Dutch,
But I don't suppose those countries really minded very much.
Let's be free with them and share the BBC with them,
We mustn't prevent them basking in the sun. Let's soften their defeat again,
And build their bloody fleet again,
But don't let's be beastly to the Hun.

'Don't Let's Be Nasty To The Australians'

Better raise that tinny to them Aussies then!
- 'Though they tend to be (what's new?) crude.
They're similar to New Zealanders, but with less intellect,
And without that stuffy, snobbish attitude.

The women, they're all named Sheila,
The gentlemen are named Bruce.
Their idea of foreplay, though? "Brace yerself, love!",
(Which isn't much bladdy use).

Strewth, blue! The lingo's admittedly pretty blunt,
They're brash! Christ, *they're* no bunch of wowsers!
But, evidently, some have fundamental difficulty,
Keeping the "strides" up. ("What's that?" - Trousers).

They're unsentimental, independent, bawdy, bluff!
Damned lewd? Not half! The common banter's fruity!
There's the wobbegong, the noted Evonne Goolagong,
The tuneful Natalie Imbruglia (you little beauty!)

They eat yabbies, drive "utes", peed as a newt,
Wear those distinctive hats with corks on strings.
They eat Vegemite, watch 'Neighbours' then 'Home and Away',
From downtown Indooroopilly to Alice Springs.

They're into barbies, wasted, on Bondi Beach,
L.B.W! Howzat! - They're O.T.T. over the cricket.
Yet most seem to be bar stewards in Earls Court...
A bottle of Fosters, then? Well, that's the ticket!

They went and gave us the Sydney Opera House, possums,
The Dreamtime...but Rolf Harris,
The well-suntanned model Elle - "The Body", mate!
Mark 'Webbo' Webber, the brothers Farriss.

Then the damned-talented Delta Goodrem,
The feted Mr. Scott - the late Bon,
Jason Donovan, the band Mental As Anything,
They're totally devoted to Olivia Newton-John.

From The Gulf of Carpentaria, to dead-end Townsville,
Down west to The Great Australian Bight,
There's multitudes of sheep, then sheep...then even more sheep!
But stuffed, even they're alright!

There's the wallaby, the Tasmanian devil,
The platypus, the koala, the kangaroo.
Then there's the bushmen's most delightful tunes
- Listen when they play that blessed didgeridoo!

There's Waltzing Matilda, the esteemed Angus Young,
(The metal 'Thunder from Down Under').
They booze unbelievably! (Doesn't Shane Warne at least?)
Bet tons of Castlemaine he must (spew-up) "chunder".

Don Bradman, the detested Abo settlements,
The dingo mutt, tennis star Lleyton Hewitt...
Tempted by that hot weather? Well, fly out Qantas then!
Don't be the whinging little pom! Just do it!

They even went and gave us 'Pauline Hanson One Nation',
Nonetheless, they're the ultimate, just damned great,
From peaceful Wendouree, to Newcastle, New South Wales!
Don't be a dag, sport! G'day, mate!