<%-- Page Title--%> Chintito <%-- End Page Title--%>

<%-- Volume Number --%> Vol 1 Num 157 <%-- End Volume Number --%>

June 4 , 2004

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Wretched Rhymes of Woe


Twinkle, Twinkle, Bangla Brother,
How I wonder who you are
Up above the law so high
Like a diamond in the sky

Little Miss Siffat
Was sat down beside Rifat,
Gossiping their time away;
There came Bangla Bhai
Who sat down beside the guy,
And frightened Miss Siffat away.

Bah, bah, Bangla Bhai
Have you any rule?
Yes, nalayek, yes, nalayek
Three pages full;
One for myself,
One for the Left,
And one for the little montree
Who lives down the lane.

Goosey, goosey gander
Whither shall Bangla Bhai wander?
Upstairs and downstairs
And beyond his guarded chamber.
There he met an old man
Who would not say his prayers,
He took him by his left leg
And threw him down the stairs.

Hickory, dickory, dock
The police came up to lock.
Bangla Bhai gave a stare
The police ran in fear
Hickory, dickory, dock.

Big burly Bangla Bhai runs through the village,
This mahalla that mahalla at this old age
Rapping at the thatched huts, crying through the night
"Have all the Sarbahara left, or else I'll give them the fright?"

Ding, dong, bell,
Police is in the well.
Who put them in?
Leftists about fifteen.
Who pulled them out?
Bangla Bhai's tout.
What a naughty group was that
Trying to drown some police brat
Who never did society any harm,
But took toll from poor farmers' barn.

SP and DSP went up to Rajshahi
To fetch the man Bangla Bhai;
DSP said "not now", and cried how-mow
And the SP was left high and dry.
Then up SP got, to Dhaka did trot
As fast as he could in a copter
To boss D.I.G., also his mama-jee,
Who asked him to go a bit softer.
Then DSP came in, and he did grin
To see SP applying the butter
Their boss, vexed, did scold DSP next
For laughing at the country's disaster.


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