Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 495 & Part 496

 

Today is Saturday, the 19th of September 2026.

If rhinoceros become hippopotamuses when they lose their horns, the nineteen stunt cats wanted to know, what do unicorns become when they lose theirs?

Who says rhinoceros become hippopotamuses when they lose their horns?, the tawny owl asked confused. I think that never happened before.

The thirty-one grinning cats said that, said the nineteen stunt cats, and we always believe what the thirty-one grinning cats say. Otherwise they would not be grinning.

Can oxen do bullfights?, out of the blue the grinning cats wanted to know, but they were only asking for the twelve hipster-cats, as they later admitted, after all the cats broke into a weird and annoying song.

There must have been something in their water or in their catnip, the tawny owl thought, or as Johann Wolfgang von Goethe once said, 'We do not have to visit a madhouse to find disordered minds; our planet is the mental institution of the universe'. And I think unicorns become white mares when they lose their horns.

And nineteen oxen joined the eleven hippopotamuses, the three rhinoceros, the twenty-six deer, the eighteen other horses, the ten leopards, the two more tigers, the twenty-five normal cats, the seventeen more dogs, the nine poodles, the one assistance dog, the twenty-three guide dogs, the fifteen orangutans, the seven gorillas, the thirty thirsty monkeys, the twenty-two dragons, the fourteen hens, the six unicorns, the twenty-eight horses, the twenty zebras, the twelve frogs, the four pandas, the twenty-seven koalas, the twenty bears, the nineteen hares, the eleven hamsters, the three mice, the twenty-three wild boars, the fifteen pigs, the thirty cows, the twenty-two raccoons, the fourteen foxes, the six giraffes, the twenty-nine tigers, the twenty-three lions, the fifteen face-cats, the seven wolves, the thirty dogs, the twenty-two face-monkeys, the fourteen speak-no-evil-monkeys, the six hear-no-evil-monkeys, the twenty-eight see-no-evil-monkeys, the twenty astro-cats, the twelve hipster-cats, the four dragon cats, the twenty-seven hacker cats, the nineteen stunt cats, the eleven ninja-cats, the three pouting cats, the twenty-six crying cats, the eighteen weary cats, the ten kissing cats, the two cats with wry smiles, the twenty-four smiling cats with heart-eyes, the sixteen cats with tears of joy, the eight grinning cats with smiling eyes, the thirty-one grinning cats, the twenty-three spiders, the fifteen scorpions, the seven ladybugs, the twenty-nine bees, the twenty-one ants, the thirty crickets, the twenty-two mosquitoes, the fourteen caterpillars, the six snails, the twenty-six butterflies, the eighteen bats, the ten more chicks, the two chicks, the twenty-five chicks, the seventeen penguins, the nine little red birds, and the one little tawny owl…

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"Bromford"

I offer myself to you
Though I am a broken thing
A cardinal with severed wing

In morning to hide my face
Though I am a sunderer
Guised in maternal grace

Heir to a crippled ground
My little Elysium
My god how I've let you down

Let me fall
Through the ground
Where you fell
Back to you

We burn like Bromford
Lost in the ash below
Hoping to find a home

So far may you run from me
To cities with living leaves
No fire to fear beneath

"Song For Bromford"

I′m gonna write you a song
For Bromford's dawn
For Bromford′s dawn
The rosy fingered one
Rosy fingered one

I'll have to ride a white swan
When Bromford's gone
When Bromford′s gone
Riding on and on and on and on

The 20th. Century boy
He′s just a blow up toy
Just a blow up toy, the 20th. Century boy
Just a blow up toy

You can give hot love
With a soft kid glove
With a leather glove
With a leather glove, black leather glove

Are you a Cosmic Dancer
Or just a Necromancer?
Necromancing, cosmic dancing
Necromancing

In the Melba Sun
You're the peachy one
Come on

Well there′s a wildness in you
And you're an untamed youth
With your rosy fingered dawn
And the blues in your shoes

For my Bromford, my Planet Queen
I′ll be a revolution machine

I'm a labourer of love
In my Persian gloves
I′m a two penny prince
I'll give you all my love
For my Bromford, my Planet Queen
I'll be a revolution machine

I′m gonna hang my head
In the valley of rain
I′m gonna charge like a ram
I'm gonna fly like a plane

For my Bromford, my Planet Queen
I′ll be a revolution machine

Well Telegram Sam
With a frog in her hand
It ain't no use
Like Dr. Seuss it ain′t no use

Life's a gas
But we know it won′t last
We know it won't last but life's a blast
Life′s a blast

And that revolution
Is circumlocution
You won′t fool me
You won't fool me, you don′t fool me

My American Woman
With a wand in her hand
With a wand in her hand
A wand in her hand a wandering the land

My Mystic Lady
Well she drives me crazy

Drives me crazy
Mystic Lady, lipstick baby

And my Planet Queen
Has orbital dreams

I have a wildness for you
And a powder keg leg
Gonna catch a bright star
And place it on your head

For my Bromford, my Planet Queen
I'll be a revolution machine

Your lips are like lightning
And my heart′s all pain
Well, you can tear a plane
In the crocodile rain

For my Bromford, my Planet Queen
I'll be a revolution machine

Now I′m all alone
Without a telephone
Give me the remote
I'll turn it on

For my Bromford, my Planet Queen
I'll be a revolution machine

Well you slide so good
With your bones so fair
Just sitting there
In your discipline chair

For my Bromford, my Planet Queen
I′ll be a revolution machine
I′ll be a revolution machine