The Balls
A recitation of Edgar Allan Poe's "The Bells", as read by Arnold Schwarzenegger
Hear da sludges with da balls—
Slivered balls—
What world of merry mint their mell-o-dee fore...talls.
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
In da icy air of da night!
While da stars that over-sprinkle
All de heavens, seem to twinkle, too...
With a crystal-lean delight;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Andy Rooney kind of rhyme,
To the tin...tin...ab...I know that part! I got da abs, baby! Tin-tin-AB-ulation that so musically swells,
From my balls, balls, balls, balls,
Balls, balls, balls,—
From the jingling and da tinkling of my balls.
Hear da marsh-mellowy wedding balls,
Golden balls!
What a world of happiness dere harmony fore...talls.
Through de balmy air of da night
How they ding out their dee-light
From the Marvin Garden notes!
And all in tune,
What a liquidy titty floats
To the turtle-ly dove that listens, while she herds da goats
On the moon! Baaaaaaaa!
Oh, from out of dee going out of business sales,
What a gust of eubonics volum-...volooom-...monstrously wails!
How it wails!
How I swell!
Oh, da future!
How it tells
Of rapture that impales (laughs) kind of like Dracula...
Oh my balls, balls, balls—
Oh my balls, balls, balls, balls,
Balls, balls, balls—
To the rhyming and the climbing atop my sweaty balls!
Hear da loud alarm clock balls—
Brazil-ly balls!
What tales of terror, now, dere turbulancy...talls!
In da startled ear of da night,
How dey scream out their afro-fright...(laughs) sort of like Buckwheat.
Too much they are horrified to speak,
They can only shriek, shriek,
Out of tune—an Ashlee Simpson shriek it is.
In a clamorous appealing to dee mercy of da fire,
In a mad ex-post-u-lation with da deaf and da frantic fire
Leaping higher, higher, higher,
With one of dose desperate desires,
And a resolute endeavor
Now—sit down never
On da dark side of the girlie-faced moon.
Oh, my balls, balls, balls!
What a tale their sweatiness...talls!
Of despair!
How they clang, and bang, and rrrroar!
What a honey stickiness they outpour
On the bosom of de palpitating air!
Yet the girl, she fully knows,
By the twanging
And the banging
How de jism ebbs and flows;
Yet the booty distinctly tells,
In the jangling
And the bangling,
How the danger, it stinks and swells,
By the stinking and the swelling in the anger of my balls—
Of my balls—
Of my balls, balls, balls, balls,
Balls, balls, balls,—
In de clamor and de clanging of my balls!
Hear da tolling of my balls—
Iron balls!
What a world of de solemn thought their monopoly com-...palls!
In da silence of da night,
How we shiver with de Alfalfa's fright...(laughs) another little rascal.
At de melancholy menace of dere tone!
For every sound dat floats,
From the thrust within dere throats,
Is a groan...like dat Linda Lovelace woman.
And the people—ah, de people—
They that dwell up in dat steeple,
All alone,
And who tolling, tolling, tolling,
In dat muffly mojo-tone,
Feel a glory in so rolling
(pause) we know what they are rolling! And get stoned!
They be neither man or woman—
They be neither brute nor human—
They be transgendered maybe?
And their Queen it is who tolls,
And she rolls, rolls, rolls, rolls,
A pee-on from my balls!
And her merry bosom swells,
With the pee-on from my balls!
And she dances and she yells;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Andy Rooney kind of rhyme,
To the peeing from my balls—
Of my balls;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sick and de twisted Rooney kind of rhyme...I hate de liberals!
As he knells, knells, knells,
In a happy, girlie-man Rooney rhyme,
Keeping time, time, time,
To the kneading of my balls,
Of my balls, balls, balls—
To the toiling of my balls,
Of my balls, balls, balls, balls,
Balls, balls, balls,—
To de moaning and de groaning of my manly-man balls.
