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Rasputin (Russia's Greatest Love Machine) Painting

Philip Leister

Painting, Acrylic on Canvas

Size: 60 W x 60 H x 1.5 D in

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$6,900

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About The Artwork

There lived a certain man in Russia long ago He was big and strong, in his eyes a flaming glow Most people look at him with terror and with fear But to Moscow chicks he was such a lovely dear He could preach the Bible like a preacher Full of ecstasy and fire But he also was the kind of teacher Women would desire Ra-ra-Rasputin Lover of the Russian queen There was a cat that really was gone Ra-ra-Rasputin Russia's greatest love machine It was a shame how he carried on He ruled the Russian land and never mind the Czar But the kazachok he danced really wunderbar In all affairs of state he was the man to please But he was real great when he had a girl to squeeze For the queen he was no wheeler dealer Though she'd heard the things he'd done She believed he was a holy healer Who would heal her son Ra-ra Rasputin Lover of the Russian queen There was a cat that really was gone Ra-ra Rasputin Russia's greatest love machine It was a shame how he carried on But when his drinking and lusting And his hunger for power Became known to more and more people The demands to do something About this outrageous man Became louder and louder "This man's just got to go", declared his enemies But the ladies begged, "Don't you try to do it, please" No doubt this Rasputin had lots of hidden charms Though he was a brute, they just fell into his arms Then one night some men of higher standing Set a trap, they're not to blame "Come to visit us", they kept demanding And he really came Ra-ra Rasputin Lover of the Russian queen They put some poison into his wine Russia's greatest love machine He drank it all and said, "I feel fine" Lover of the Russian queen They didn't quit, they wanted his head Russia's greatest love machine And so they shot him 'til he was dead Oh, those Russians 'Rasputin' by Boney M. Songwriters: Frank Farian / Fred Jay / George Reyam

Details & Dimensions

Painting:Acrylic on Canvas

Original:One-of-a-kind Artwork

Size:60 W x 60 H x 1.5 D in

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Delivery Time:Typically 5-7 business days for domestic shipments, 10-14 business days for international shipments.

I’m (I am?) a self-taught artist, originally from the north suburbs of Chicago (also known as John Hughes' America). Born in 1984, I started painting in 2017 and began to take it somewhat seriously in 2019. I currently reside in rural Montana and live a secluded life with my three dogs - Pebbles (a.k.a. Jaws, Brandy, Fang), Bam Bam (a.k.a. Scrat, Dinki-Di, Trash Panda, Dug), and Mystique (a.k.a. Lady), and five cats - Burglekutt (a.k.a. Ghostmouse Makah), Vohnkar! (a.k.a. Storm Shadow, Grogu), Falkor (a.k.a. Moro, The Mummy's Kryptonite, Wendigo, BFC), Nibbler (a.k.a. Cobblepot), and Meegosh (a.k.a. Lenny). Part of the preface to the 'Complete Works of Emily Dickinson helps sum me up as a person and an artist: "The verses of Emily Dickinson belong emphatically to what Emerson long since called ‘the Poetry of the Portfolio,’ something produced absolutely without the thought of publication, and solely by way of expression of the writer's own mind. Such verse must inevitably forfeit whatever advantage lies in the discipline of public criticism and the enforced conformity to accepted ways. On the other hand, it may often gain something through the habit of freedom and unconventional utterance of daring thoughts. In the case of the present author, there was no choice in the matter; she must write thus, or not at all. A recluse by temperament and habit, literally spending years without settling her foot beyond the doorstep, and many more years during which her walks were strictly limited to her father's grounds, she habitually concealed her mind, like her person, from all but a few friends; and it was with great difficulty that she was persuaded to print during her lifetime, three or four poems. Yet she wrote verses in great abundance; and though brought curiosity indifferent to all conventional rules, had yet a rigorous literary standard of her own, and often altered a word many times to suit an ear which had its own tenacious fastidiousness." -Thomas Wentworth Higginson "Not bad... you say this is your first lesson?" "Yes, but my father was an *art collector*, so…"

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