These selected lyrics are provided on the web site with permission for the enjoyment of Loudon's fans. Reproduction of the lyrics without permission from Snowden Music, Inc. is prohibited.
Bein' a Dad
Breakfast in Bed
Dreaming
A Father and a Son
Four Mirrors
Grown Man
Happy Birthday, Elvis
I Can't Stand Myself
Little Ship
Men
Mr. Ambivalent
OGM
Our Own War
The Picture
Primrose Hill
So Damn Happy
A Song
Suddenly It's Christmas
The Birthday Present II
Underwear
What Are Families For?
The World
High Wide & Handsome
Old Ballyhoo
Little Waterloo
Acres Of Diamonds
Way Up In NYC
The Man In The Moon
No Knees
Rowena
Charlieís Last Song
Times is Hard
House
On to Victory Mr. Roosevelt
Fear Itself
The Panic is On
The Krugman Blues
Halloween 2009
The Middle of the Night
Cash for Clunkers
Got A Ukelele
Bein' a Dad
Copyright ©1997 Snowden Music, Inc.
 
Bein' a dad isn't so bad
Except that you gotta feed 'em
You gotta shoe 'em and clothe 'em
And try not to loathe 'em
Bug 'em and hug 'em and heed 'em

Bein' a dad can sure make you mad
Man it even can drive you crazy
It's as hard as it looks
You gotta read them dumb books
And you end up despising Walt Disney

Bein' a dad starts to get radical
When they turn into teenagers
You gotta tighten the screws
Enforce the curfews
Confiscate weapons and pagers

But a daughter and son 
Can be sort of fun
Just as long as they don't defy you
They'll treat you like a king
They'll believe anything
They're easy to frighten and lie to

Bein' a dad (bein' a dad)
Bein' a dad (bein' a dad)
Bein' a dad can make you feel glad
When you get paperweights and aftershave lotions
Yeah it feels pretty great when they graduate
That's when you're choked with emotions

But bein' a dad takes more than a tad of
Good luck and divine intervention
You need air-tight alibis
Fool proof disguises
Desperation's the father of invention

So sometimes you take off 
For a few rounds of golf
And you stay away for half of their lifetimes
The result of it all is
You're captured and hauled up
Before a tribunal for dad crimes

Bein' a dad (bein' a dad)
Bein' a dad (bein' a dad)
Bein' a dad can make you feel sad
Like you're the insignificant other
Yeah right from the start
They break your heart
In the end every kid wants his mother

Bein' a dad (bein' a dad)
Breakfast in Bed
Copyright ©1997 Snowden Music, Inc.
 
Well I wake up in the morning 
And I can't get out of bed
You're lying in there with me
We stay put instead
I grind the beans, squeeze the juice
And butter up the toast
That takes about an hour
Ninety minutes at the most

I like my breakfast in my bed
I could use a bite
Just pick up where you left off
On my shoulder late last night
I mean to say I'm hungry 
But it's not for food
When I'm on your empty stomach
It must mean I'm in the mood

Just a couple of consumers
Every morning me and you
We keep consummating
What else is there to do?
We hardly go out any more
Mostly we stay in
All I do these days is you
Baby that's no sin

I go down for a newspaper
And to see if there's some post
I always wear my dressing gown
I don't want to boast
But I give you some good news 
Every morning without fail
Then I drop that dressing gown
I give you your mail

The ruckus that we're making
It's amazing I'm afraid
We're making out all of the time
The bed never gets made
The phone rings, we don't answer it
Callers become enraged
The message on the machine
Says we're practically engaged

In bed like John and Yoko
We're giving peace a chance
All that we are saying is "where's my underpants?"
After breakfast we get antsy
Then we start to slouch
We head for the loving room
Let's do lunch on the couch
Do lunch on the couch
Dreaming
Copyright ©1996 Snowden Music, Inc.
 
I'd rather be dreaming than living
Living's just too hard to do
It's chances not choices, noises not voices
A day's just a thing to get through
Living's just too hard to do

I'd rather be dreaming than talking
There's nothing to hear or to say
With ears covered mouth closed the world is opposed
Nothing gets in or away
There's nothing to hear or to say

I'd rather be dreaming than thinking
Thoughts are small comfort to me
Dreams might be pretend but at least dreams end
And I just can't stop thinking you see
Thoughts are small comfort to me

I'd rather be dreaming than sleeping
Just sleeping you're just as well dead
In dreams I can fly, in dreams I don't die
That's why I lie here in this bed
Just sleeping you're just as well dead

I'd rather be dreaming
A Father and a Son
Copyright ©1992 Snowden Music, Inc.
 
When I was your age I was just like you,
And just look at me now; I'm sure you do.
But your grandfather was just as bad
And you should have heard him trash his dad.
Life's no picnic, that's a given:
My mom's mom died when my mom was seven;
My mom's father was a tragic guy,
But he was so distant and nobody knows why.
Now, your mother's family, you know them:
Each and every one a gem,
Each and every one a gem.

When I was your age I was a mess;
On a bad day I still am, I guess.
I think I know what you're going through;
Everything changes but nothing is new.
And I know that I'm miserable; can't you see?
I just want you to be just like me.
Boys grow up to be grown men
And then men change back into boys again.
You're starting up and I'm winding down;
Ain't it big enough for us both in this town?
Say it's big enough for us both in this town.

When I was your age I thought I hated my dad
And that the feeling was a mutual one that we had;
We fought each other day and night:
I was always wrong; he was always right.
But he had the power and he needed to win;
His life half over, mine about to begin.
I'm not sure about that Oedipal stuff,
But when we were together it was always rough.
Hate is a strong word; I want to back-track;
The bigger the front, then the bigger the back;
The bigger the front, then the bigger the back.

Now you and me are me and you,
And it's a different ballgame though not brand-new.
I don't know what all of this fighting is for;
But we're having us a teenage/middle-age war.
I don't want to die and you want to live;
It takes a little bit of take and a whole lot of give.
It never really ends though each race is run,
This thing between a father and a son.
Maybe it's power and push and shove,
Maybe it's hate but probably it's love,
Maybe it's hate but probably it's love.
Four Mirrors
Copyright ©1992 Snowden Music, Inc.
 
I've slumped in your chair
Tossed and turned in your bed
Lurked in your lair
I have lived in your head
Where others were closer
No one is nearer
As I glimpse you in me
In the hallway mirror

I've grabbed from the plate
And I've stabbed with a knife
On day one, my first date 
I slept with your wife
My common-law stepmom
I desire and fear her
I compare you to me
In the full-length mirror

Sharing hair, forehead lines
Scowling, worrying, thinking
With a penchant for white wines
A disposal toward drinking
You had 'em, I got 'em
I move my face nearer
Broken blood vessels 
In the bathroom mirror

And your doormen all know me
It's not so bizarre
So it shouldn't throw me
To go move your car
But the ghost of your father
He couldn't be clearer
He's there where he haunted you
The rearview mirror
Grown Man
Copyright ©1995 Snowden Music, Inc.
 
You got a grown man for a boyfriend,
So you better treat him just like a baby.
He's a saint on Sunday, he's a bum on Monday;
The rest of the week he's just crazy.

He's unpredictable, like an animal,
Proud as an eagle, big and strong like a bear;
He's a snake and a frog, he's a pig and a dog;
There's a menagerie that's living in there.

You'll be his princess--forever after, yes--
If you keep acting like you're always sixteen.
He is the king, ruling the kingdom's his thing;
Just remember his mother is queen.

Sometimes he fools around when he goes out of town
But sooner or later he's bound to get caught.
He loves coming home, but then he has to roam;
Mr. Ambivalence is the guy that you've got.

He's got some problems--no, you can't solve them--
He's got some goblins he can't exorcise.
Mostly he wants to cry, he's afraid to die,
But he's living life like it's a booby prize.

He wishes he were young, a little better hung,
And he's paranoid you feel that way too;
So reassure him, you'll never cure him,
But he still needs his daily dose of you.

You got a grown man for a boyfriend,
So you better treat him just like a baby.
Yeah, he's a saint on Sunday, he's a bum on Monday;
The rest of the week...
He's asleep on Sunday, he's a beast on Monday;
Rest of the week...
He's blue on Sunday, and he's manic on Monday;
Rest of the week he's just crazy.
Happy Birthday, Elvis
Copyright ©1993 Snowden Music, Inc.
 
Happy birthday, Elvis; 
You're not really dead.
It's a lie, it's just a crock,
Something some people said.
I heard a cassette of you speaking
On a telephone;
From a bunker beneath Graceland, 
The king sits on his throne.

Happy birthday, Elvis; 
Fifty-eight years old today.
It isn't true, you didn't die,
No matter what they say.
The colonel just decided 
You should drop out of sight
After the Bicentennial--
The timing was just right.

(Bridge:)
Happy birthday, Elvis;
You're alive in '93.
They took away the body, 
But who the hell was he?
Who was that tall fat man
They buried in your place?
Just another imitator;
Plastic surgeons did his face.

Happy birthday, Elvis; 
You still love to ball.
Somebody said she spotted you
In a Memphis mall.
Check out the checkout counters; 
Read what the tabloids say:
Aliens abducted you,
But somehow you got away.

Happy birthday, Elvis; 
I for one will not shed tears.
You'll be back for the millennium;
That's in seven measly years.
And if you're blue and lonely,
Pick up that telephone,
Down in that bunker beneath Graceland,
The king sits on his throne.
I Can't Stand Myself
Copyright ©1993 Snowden Music, Inc.
 
I sure can pick 'em
Out looking for my next victim
Who will that unlucky one be?
Oh there's lots shaking
No they're not all taken
There's someone out there
Just imperfect for me

There must be some kind of waitress
I could lure under my mattress
If I ply her with chitchat and wine
How's about a rich heiress
Or a nice massage therapist
I could use some hands-on treatment all of the time

I'm done with you, finally we're through
The whole thing was all wrong
At last I'm free, I'm back with me
But that won't be for long 
I can't stand myself

Yeah I'm bar hopping
I'm out girlfriend shopping
I'm trying to find somebody to bring home
To meet my dear sweet mother
She's thinking oh no here comes another one
But she knows I just can't leave it alone

I got this sneaking suspicion
It's more than just a little like fishing
You bait up your hook
And then you throw out your line
Yeah I'm out beating the bushes
Scoping out smiles, checking out tushes
I'm out on the lookout just about all of the time

We both tried nobody died
But I feel damned near dead
I miss you but I'm really blue
Cause I'm back with me instead
I can't stand myself

I sure can pick em
I'm looking for my next victim
Who will that unlucky one be?
Little Ship
Copyright ©1993 Snowden Music, Inc.
 
Our relationship
Is just a little ship
That's out on a stormy sea

We barely keep afloat
In our leaky boat
But still I'm hoping 
That you'll dote on me

When we first set sail
We thought we'd never fail
The wind was our best friend
It wouldn't let us down

But then the tempest grew
And I thought I'd lost you
And our little ship
Would sink or run aground

But the precious craft
Was sturdy fore and aft
It rolled on a stormy sea

And when the winds died down
That's when I looked around
You and the sun were all that I could see

And then a gentle wind
Bore us home again
I sat in the stern
You were in the bow

We landed safe and sound
And there on solid ground
We loved our little ship
Even more somehow

Our relationship
Is just a little ship
That's out on a stormy sea
Men
Copyright ©1992 Snowden Music, Inc.
 
When a ship is sinking and they lower the lifeboats
And hand out the life jackets, the men keep on their coats
The women and the children are the ones who must go first
And the men who try to save their skins are cowards and are cursed

Every man's a captain, men know how to drown
Man the lifeboats if there's room, otherwise go down

And it's the same when there's a war on: it's the men who go to fight
Women and children are civilians, when they're killed it's not right
Men kill men in uniform, its the way war goes
When they run they're cowards, when they stay they are heroes

Every man's a general, men go off to war
The battlefields a man's world, cannon fodders what they're for

It's the men who have the power, it's the men who have the might
And the world's a place of horror because each man thinks he's right
A man's home is his castle so the family let him in
But what's important in that kingdom is the women and the children

A husband and a father, every man's a king
But he's really just a drone, gathers no honey, has no sting
Have pity on the general, the king, and the captain
They know they're expendable, after all they're men
Mr. Ambivalent
Copyright ©1997 Snowden Music, Inc.
 
Mr. Ambivalent
You ain't going nowhere
Sitting there on that fence
Mr. Ambivalent
We're all sick and tired
Of your ambivalence

Mr. Ambivalent
You don't gain no ground
When you stay in one spot
Mr. Ambivalent
Make a little movement 
Or get off of the pot

If you love it and you hate it
You just stay in a bind
Take it or leave it
Make up your mind

Mr. Ambivalent
You got options open
But you're headed for a fall
Mr. Ambivalent
You'll wind up with nothing
Because you want it all

Mr. Ambivalent
First you say you're sure
And then you're not so sure
Mr. Ambivalent
No one thinks it's cute
When you're so damned demure

If you love it and you hate it
You just stay in a bind
Take it or leave it
Make up your mind

Mr. Ambivalent
Lord you love to waffle
How you go back and forth
Mr. Ambivalent
You say you're flying south
And then you stay up north
OGM [Out-going Message]
Copyright ©1997 Snowden Music, Inc.
 
The OGM on our machine
Began with we're not here now
But you went and changed the "we" to "no one"
Do you mean us or me?
Your new outgoing voice
Sounds bright and brave and very clear now
In those seconds you recorded it
I guess that you felt free

I started out my message 
With a pause that I aborted
When I addressed you oddly
By your given Christian name
Then I told you who was calling you
That felt downright sordid
But if I sounded sad and timid
I achieved my aim

There's a machine where I'm staying
That displays a big fat zero
But last night I arrived 
To find a scary bright red one
So I pressed play and pretty soon
I could feel all my fear go
The few silent seconds that you'd left me
Are erased and gone now

Tonight at last we finally spoke
You sounded rather giddy
You said you'd had a few drinks
And you'd been playing with the cat
When I told you that I missed you
Your reply to me was really
Then you said you might have found
Someone to share the flat

I said I'd call in a few days
You know I'll keep my promise
Yes I miss you, is it over?
I don't really know
As for any messages 
I'll try to keep them honest
And when I hear that no one's there now
I'll just scream..."hello"
Our Own War
Copyright ©1997 Snowden Music, Inc.
 
Hostilities ended
Nobody cared 
Any more for the war
So a truce was declared

So it ends in surrender
Then there's peace at least
Arms are withdrawn
And fire is ceased

To stay in a skirmish
One needs appetite
Two need desire to 
Keep up a fight

But when appetites off
And desire is gone
Then the fire is held
And arms are withdrawn

When losses and wounds
Are grievous and gory
When the battle is pitched
In the field there is glory
When hearts just aren't in it
Retreat leads to rout
And then arms are laid down
And the fire goes out

We remember the ones
Who run out of dumb luck
Monuments are erected
And statutes are struck
But we tend to forget
If and when we forgive
That survivors survive 
But they never quite live

As for our own war
Yes I recall now
Just what it was like
Our own personal hell
I've forgotten the good times
Heaven's so vague
I remember the battles
Oh how they raged

When losses and wounds
Are grievous and gory
When the battle is pitched
In the field there is glory
When hearts just aren't in it
Retreat leads to rout
And then arms are laid down
And the fire goes out

When losses and wounds
Are grievous and gory
When the battle is pitched
In the field there is glory
When hearts just aren't in it
Retreat leads to rout
And then arms are laid down
And the fire goes out
The Picture
Copyright ©1992 Snowden Music, Inc.
 
There are pictures on the piano,
Pictures of the family,
Mostly my kids but there's an old
Picture of you and me.
You were five and I was six
In 1952;
That was forty years ago-
How could it be true?

We were sitting outside drawing
At a table meant for cards,
And it must have been in autumn,
Falling leaves in the front yard,
With a shoebox full of crayons,
Full of colors oh so bright,
In a picture in a plastic frame,
A snapshot black and white.

You were looking at my paper,
Watching what I drew;
It was natural: I was older,
Thirteen months more than you.
A brother and a sister,
A little boy and girl,
And whoever took that picture
Captured our own world.

A brother needs a sister
To watch what he can do,
To protect and to torture,
To boss around-it's true;
But a brother will defend her
For a sister's love is pure,
Because she thinks he's wonderful
When he is not so sure.

In the picture there's a fender
Of our old Chevrolet
Or Pontiac-our dad would know,
Surely he could say;
But dad is dead and we grow old;
It's true that time flies by;
And in forty years the world has changed
As well as you and I.
Primrose Hill
Copyright ©1992 Snowden Music, Inc.
 
Living on the side 
Of Primrose Hill
Drinking cans of Tennants 
Just can't seem to get my fill
Got a beat up guitar 
And a dirty old sleeping bag
And this mangy dog 
Whose tail don't wag
Sun's been shining down
On my hillside bed
That's not the only reason
My face is so red
This nasty cut on my nose
Is not from no fight
I just fell down yesterday
Or maybe it was last night
And I used to sing and play
Down in the underground
But a few years back 
They started cracking down
Now I'm living on the side
Of Primrose Hill
I'm no tourist attraction
But I give them a thrill

Yeah I see you 
Riding by on your flash bicycle
Yeah they can do you for that on Primrose Hill
A pretty young mother goes by
She's pushing her pram
Her little baby leans out
Just to see what I am
From the top of the hill
There's a hell of a view
Houses of Parliament and London Zoo
Those politicians all chatter
They trumpet and roar
That must be what those hyenas all
Are laughing for
When you come up to London
It sure is something to see
It's somewhere to go
But it's no place to be
And there's two things 
Keeping me from going 'round the bend
I got my music 
And this dog for a friend

'Cause life gets slippery
When you're living on the side
Yeah I know I should quit drinking
But I haven't even tried
My mutt's licking my fingers
And I'm wetting my lips
I got a can of extra strong
And a bag of chicken and chips
If I had a little money
I'd get a few things
Like a bottle of vodka
And a pack of new guitar strings
I guess I could die here
On the side of this hill
I'm no tourist attraction
But I'd give them a chill
And I'm living on the side
Of Primrose Hill
Drinking cans of Tennants
Just can't seem to get my fill
Got a beat up guitar 
And dirty old sleeping bag
This mangy dog 
Whose tail won't wag
So Damn Happy
Copyright ©1997 Snowden Music, Inc.
 
The sad thing is I'm so damn happy
Who'd blame her if she were to slap me
The sun should not shine when there's rain
I should be in a lot more pain
At least I should feel slightly crappy
But the sad thing is I'm so damn happy

And the worst thing is it's so much better
That admission would upset her
But it's true and it's beyond belief
What I feel is sheer relief
I may regret the day I met her
And the worst thing is it's so much better

It's comic that it's all so tragic
It's that hum-drum novel old black magic
Let's have a laugh after we cry
Let's hope we live before we die
The silly clown's red nose is runny
And it's tragic that it's all so funny

It's crucial that it doesn't matter
Vows of love are idle chatter
To feel this good has to be bad
I'm so damn happy that it's sad
Dear listener would you like to slap me
And the sad thing is I'm so damn happy
Yes the sad thing is I'm so damn happy
A Song
Copyright ©1993 Snowden Music, Inc.
 
Here's a song
For someone else to sing
With a universal
And generic ring

It's all about the same old stuff
That you like and can't get enough of
How's about a minor chord right here
Wasn't that rather pleasant in your ear?

And here's a song with not a lot to say
But when you see it it'll sound okay
You bet there'll be a video
We'll flesh it out for radio
Now it's high time that I play that change again
It's haunting you like an annoying friend

It's true that you like what you get
You get what you're given
God knows what the hell you'll like
That's why he's up in heaven

Here's a song I didn't even write
It came to me one rainy April night
I had been drinking I was bored
Next to me our fat gray cat snored
I'm afraid it's time for you know what
The cat's awake, I fear I woke him up
So that's enough of that 
Now I'll shut up
Suddenly It's Christmas
Copyright ©1993 Snowden Music, Inc.
 
Suddenly it's Christmas,
Right after Hallowe'en.
Forget about Thanksgiving;
It's just a buffet in between.
There's lights and tinsel in the windows;
They're stocking up the shelves;
Santa's slaving at the North Pole
In his sweatshop full of elves.

There's got to be a build-up
To the day that Christ was born:
The halls are decked with pumpkins
And the ears of Indian corn.
Dragging through the falling leaves
In a one-horse open sleigh,
Suddenly it's Christmas,
Seven weeks before the day.

Suddenly it's Christmas,
The longest holiday.
When they say "Season's Greetings"
They mean just what they say:
It's a season, it's a marathon,
Retail eternity.
It's not over till it's over
And you throw away the tree.

Outside it's positively balmy,
In the air nary a nip;
Suddenly it's Christmas,
Unbuttoned and unzipped.
Yes, they're working overtime,
Santa's little runts;
Christmas comes but once a year
And goes on for two months.

Christmas carols in December
And November, too;
It's no wonder we're depressed
When the whole thing is through.
Finally it's January;
Let's sing "Auld Lang Syne";
But here comes another heartache,
Shaped like a Valentine.

Suddenly it's Christmas,
The longest holiday.
The season is upon us;
A pox, it won't go away.
It's a season, it's a marathon,
Retail eternity.
It's not over till it's over
And you throw away the tree.

No, it's not over till it's over
And you throw away the tree;
It's still not over till it's over
And you throw away the tree.
The Birthday Present II
Copyright ©1993 Snowden Music, Inc.
 
You got another one coming up
Baby don't be blue
I know you're one year older now
Honey I've been there too

Time flies when we're fooling around
We're just wasting away
You're dreading the date
You'd much rather wait
But happy birthday

Once we were young and foolish
Just starting out on that ride
I don't want to get ghoulish
But it seems like time's no longer on our side

It never used to get here
It always seemed so far away
But now it's here
Same time each year
That happy birthday

They say that we live many lives
I can believe it but I'm still not so sure
I don't know if it's gonna be a next time
But this time I'd like a little more
Time that is

I'm going to give you a present
That's just what I'm gonna do
To remind you to forget the past and the future
All that regret and worry's just bad for you
And when you unwrap your present
Throw the paper and the ribbon away
Remember dear
It's now we're here
So happy birthday

You got another one coming up
Baby don't don't be blue
Underwear
Copyright ©1997 Snowden Music, Inc.
 
You know when I know just how much I care
When I'm carefully folding your clean underwear
I see it's all worth it though sometimes it sure hurts
Putting back in the bureau drawer all my t-shirts
I find the foundation, the reason, a basis
Stuffing the pillows back into their cases

We suffer slings, withstand buffets and shocks
It's so clear separating then mating the socks
Stretching the fitted sheet onto the bed
I recall hairs we've split, blood and tears that we've shed
But love feels secure dear somehow I discover
Slipping the duvet into its warm cover
What Are Families For?
Copyright ©1997 Snowden Music, Inc.
 
Your mother's loose, your father's slim
She smothers you, you bother him

Passed back and forth between those two
Until they've had enough of you

Another bundle comes along
But by this time something's gone wrong

Awake all night deprived of sleep
It's overload they're in too deep then...

She forgets to take a pill
Overload is overkill
What... what are families for?

He's at the wheel, she's at his side
Three kids in back out for a ride

Looking at houses, autumn leaves
Keep hope alive, try to believe

They haven't made a huge mistake
And what seemed real in fact is fake

Kids can't sit still, "are we there yet?"
He lights his seventh cigarette

"Almost," she says, "it won't be long
Look out the window, sing a song"
Singing what... what are families for?

You're the brother who is big
You were your parents' guinea pig

The first, the oldest and the best
Smarter, quicker than the rest

Your little sister's just a girl
So you can kick her from your world

You push your baby brother down
And grind his face into the ground

They do what you want them to 
Because those two look up to you
What... what are families for?

Finally you leave the nest
Life was a quiz, now it's a test

You can't just live, a living's earned
So you use every trick you've learned

You cast off siblings, you make friends
Discover the receiving end

You swore you'd never be a dad
But that's what works, isn't that sad?

Young women want to mother you
You hate it but you want them to
What... what are families for?

All grown up, holding your own
You fend them off by telephone

You keep in touch, it's come to this
The furtive hug, suspicious kiss

Your sister's ensconced in your life
The archetype of an an ex-wife

For all that dirt he ate back then
Your brother figures you owe him now

Mom wants back all that Dad took
But Dad is dead, he's off the hook
What... what are families for?
The World
Copyright ©1997 Snowden Music, Inc.
 
Oh the world is a terrible place
Look at the look on your face
It says it all
This world's appalling
And we ache for outer space
'Cause the world is a terrible place

And the world is a crappy old hole
From bottom to top and pole to pole
No there's no good news
This world's useless
I'm out of here it's my goal
Cause the world is a crappy old hole

And the world is a sandwich of shite
Every day you take another bite
You think you're Superman
Sure you can handle it
'Til you come across kryptonite
Chunky style
The world is a sandwich of shite alright

What a wonderful world it would be
If wishes were horses maybe
It's just a song Louis' coming on strong again
We ache for fantasy
What a wonderful world it would be

Cause the world is a dirty old joke
And there's no way to fix it, it's broke
It's beyond repair and I couldn't care less
If and when it goes up in smoke
And it will
Cause the world is a dirty old crappy old shitty old terrible joke
Ooooh
High Wide & Handsome
Copyright ©2009 2nd Story Sound Records
 
High wide and handsome - thatís how I like liviní.
High wide and handsome - thatís how life should be.
Low skinny and ugly  - thatís for other people.
High wide and handsome suits me to a tee.

Song, wine, and women - theyíre my 3 favorites.
Beer, gin, and whiskey - thatís 5, 6, and 4.
Saturday night I like eatiní and danciní 
And I sleep all day Sunday soís Iím ready for more.

High wide and handsome - you canít take it with you.
High wide and handsome - thatís one way to go.
Letís live it up - might as well, weíre all dying.
High wide and handsome - letís put on  a show.

Canít quit what will kill me, so why even bother?
I love this hard liviní, so why even try?
Iíll be high wide and handsome when I kick the bucket.
Iíll be high wide and handsome on the day that I die.

High wide and handsome - you can call it my motto.
High wide and handsome - call it my creed.
Moneyís just paper, liquorís thicker than water -
High wide and handsome in thought, word, and deed. 

Have  high wide and handsome carved on my head stone,
With the date I was born plus the date that I died,
Then take one from the other - all thatís left is a number.
Just remember I laughed twice as hard as I cried.

High wide and handsome - thatís how I like liviní.
High wide and handsome - thatís how life should be.
Low skinny and ugly - thatís for other people - 
High wide and handsome suits me to a tee.
	
Old Ballyhoo
Copyright ©2009 2nd Story Sound Records
 
Mister, wonít you lend a poor dime a cripple?
Iím about a thousand dollars from my home.
Ainít got no mile in my pocket, no head to poke my hole through,
And I donít know where Iíll die when I go to.

I have tried living in the valley and working at the mill -
I like bootlegging better, running whiskey through these hills.
Now Iím back down from the mountain, and living on the bum.
If youíve got change for five dollars, why donít you give me some?

Mister, wonít you lend a poor dime a cripple?
Iím about a thousand dollars from my home.
Ainít got no mile in my pocket, no head to poke my hole through,
And I donít know where Iíll die when I go to.

Hey, I could play in your theater, local church or corner bar -
Long as thereís fun and money, I ainít too particular.
I can sing and dance†and whistle, turn cartwheels through the air,
And if I get too tight to stand upright, just tie me to a chair.

Mister, wonít you lend a poor dime a cripple?
Iím about a thousand dollars from my home.
Ainít got no mile in my pocket, no head to poke my hole through,
And I donít know where Iíll die when I go to.

Now when this song is over, gonna pass around my hat -
So wonít you reach down deep inside - Hey, quiet in the back!
Did you come to talk or listen, folks? Now everybody hush!
ĎCause when I hit that high note, I can make a statue blush.
	
Little Waterloo
Copyright ©2009 2nd Story Sound Records
 
There comes a time in a young manís life when he should settle down,
But Iíve gotta catch that next fair deal before it hits the ground -
Iím on my way, Iím gonna make it pay.

Go ask anybody, itís happened more than once - 
Iíll step out for a minute and be gone for seven months - 
Got a little bit lost, I forgot my watch.

Oh, Iím going away, Iím going to stay, and never coming home.
Gonna miss me, honey, in the days to come,
When the winter wind begins to blow, the ground is covered up with snow - 
Youíll think of me, gonna wish me back, your loving man.
Youíre gonna miss me honey in the day, days, days to come.

Iím liviní in the highways, just tryiní to catch a car.
Itís ďWhere you going, buddy?Ē ďWell, Iím going wherever you are - 
Iím satisfied, just to take a little ride.Ē
	
Lifeís a lot like poker, you canít win if you donít play -
Gonna bankroll  my tomorrow and pawn my yesterday.
Iíll trust in God, but Iíll cut the cards.

Oh, Iím going away, Iím going to stay, and never coming home.
Gonna miss me, honey, in the days to come,
When the winter wind begins to blow, the ground is covered up with snow -
Youíll think of me, gonna wish me back, your loving man.
Youíre gonna miss me honey in the day, days, days to come.

Iím going round the world, what do you think of that?
Going all the way around the world, Iím never coming back -
Never cominí home, goiní away to roam.
	
Oh but I wonít go to San Antone or anywhere near France - 
Thatís two last things, I said thatís two,  
That Iím never never never ever ever gonna do.
So canít you see? Itís guaranteed - there isnít any chance
Iíll meet my Alamo, my little Waterloo.
	
Acres Of Diamonds
Copyright ©2009 2nd Story Sound Records
 
You have a right to be rich Ė youíve got no reason to be poor.
You simply must have overlooked what youíve been looking for.
So step right up, my friends,  cross your fingers,  close your eyes,
And let me introduce you to the poor manís paradise.

Acres of diamonds are there for the taking,
Shining in the silver lining of a dream that comes true.
Over the rainbow, three miles beyond Christmas,
Acres of diamonds are waiting for you.

My friends, Iím here to tell you loveís the grandest thing on earth.
You shouldnít worship money, except for all itís worth.
ĎCause if you take a man in love - give him some spending green - 
It wonít be long Ďfore he finds out what do wah ditty means.

Acres of diamonds are there for the taking,
Shining in the silver lining of a dream that comes true.
Over the rainbow, three miles beyond Christmas,
Acres of diamonds are waiting for you.

Over on the corner in the middle of the block
Thereís a stairway going nowhere built above a vacant lot,
Where money grows on trees watered by a wishing well - 
This must be heaven - or the Fontainebleau Hotel.

Acres of diamonds are there for the taking,
Shining in the silver lining of a dream that comes true.
Over the rainbow, three miles beyond Christmas,
Acres of diamonds are waiting for you.

Friends, if youíve got the proper amount of determination, 
You can overcome almost any kind of a physical handicap.  
Why, I once knew a man that didnít have a tooth in his head, 
And yet that man learned to play a bass drum better than anybody I ever listened to.

Acres of diamonds are there for the taking,
Shining in the silver lining of a dream that comes true.
Over the rainbow, three miles beyond Christmas,
Acres of diamonds are waiting for you.
	
Way Up In NYC
Copyright ©2009 2nd Story Sound Records
 
Way up in New York City - thatís where we did† go -
A fella called Frank Walker there - he owns a studio.†
We made us a recording right there on old Broadway,
And for a week or 2 we got the hell away from Spray.
†
Way up in New York City - thatís the place to be,
Where the buildings are so high the sky is hard to see.
In a city full of strangers humanityís a show -
No, itís not like Spray where everyday you meet the folks you know.

Way up in New York City - pretty women everywhere -
After awhile a married man forgets who isnít there.
Those city gals in New York town can turn a crackerís head,
And a wife in Sprayís so far away she might as well be dead
†
Way up in New York City - all those taverns and saloons -†
You never saw so much sawdust or so many spittoons.
Thereís a cop on every corner Ė heís there to keep the peace,
And thereís lots of trees in Central Park, well, two or three at least.

We wound up in Passaic - thatís a town in New Jersey,
And† we stayed with Poseyís pal from Franklin County, Jim Holley.
We took jobs in Jersey just to make a little dough,
Then we had our audition - into New York†we did go.
†
We rode an elevator -† poor Posey, he got sick -
He threw up in a fire bucket, not a pretty trick.
But we got to the audition and we played Frank ďThe DealĒ -
He said, ďBoys, letís make a recordĒ Ė good was how that made us feel!

They paid us for 4 numbers, greenback dollars, cash in hand -
More than a weekís wage in the mill - 25 a man.
3rd class was all we could afford on the train back home to Spray,
But we stayed drunk inside that car for 2 nights and 1 day.
†
Back home from New York City, we were heroes back in Spray,
So guilty and hung over there was not a lot to say.
It got a little awkward, talking to the wives,
ĎCause we couldnít tell Ďem how we had the best time of out lives.
In September Frank released ďThe DealĒ and, yes, it was a hit.
We never got another penny - just enough to make you wanna quit.
If youíve ever been bamboozled, you know how I feel -
From now on the new name of that song is ďThe Raw Deal.Ē
†
Way up in New York City - thatís the place to be†-
Where the buildings are so high the sky is hard to see.
If I go back to New York town, next time Iíll go alone.
Iíll keep all the money - I wonít bother goiní home.
Iíll keep all the money and Iíll make New York my home.
	
The Man In The Moon
Copyright ©2009 2nd Story Sound Records
 
It was hard beiní married to Charlie -
It was no kind of regular life.
He never stopped rambliní or drinkiní or gambliní,
At least not while I  was his wife.

I never knew what he was up to, 
Except for those postcards heíd send - 
Just a coupla lines to say he was fine, 
And heíd sign them ďC. Poole, your old friend.Ē 

Now and again out of nowhere, 
Heíd come back with his hat in his hand,
And I could never stay angry 
With that dear sweet impossible man.
Sometimes heíd sing in the kitchen, 
Sometimes weíd cuddle and spoon,
But mostly I couldnít help feeling 
Like I married the man in the moon.

He always had his explanations - 
Like butter wouldnít melt in his mouth.
It was never his fault, and when he got caught, 
Heíd call me to come bail him out.

No matter how much I pleaded, 
He just wouldnít take care of himself.
He collapsed in the street, so broke down aní beat, 
There was nothiní I could to help.

Now and again out of nowhere, 
Heíd come back with his hat in his hand,
And I could never stay angry 
With that dear sweet impossible man.
Sometimes heíd sing in the kitchen, 
Sometimes weíd cuddle and spoon,
But mostly I couldnít help feeling 
Like I married the man in the moon.

It was hard beiní married to Charlie.
	
No Knees
Copyright ©2009 2nd Story Sound Records
 
I ainít got no knees no more - I canít walk around.
Keep me off that killing floor, Lord, and above the ground.
The doctor says my heartís alright, and thatís alright with me.
I guess the poisonís in my system and itís settled in my knees.
	
I ainít got no knees no more and I can hardly stand.
Liviní life flat on my back, itís hard to be a man.
I donít know what itís gonna take to get back on my feet.
Lord, Iím only 28 years old and I feel damn near beat.

You know, I guess it was my drinkiní - I was drinkiní day and night.
Now Iíve stopped, but itís too late and that just donít seem right.
Why stay in the city, if you canít paint the town?
Whatís the use of standiní up when you keep falliní down?

I ainít got no knees no more - Iím not worth a dime.
I spent all my money, Lord, and I used up my time.
I should pray to heaven, and beg for mercy, please,
But Lord knows it would kill me just to get down on these knees.
	
Rowena
Copyright ©2009 2nd Story Sound Records
 
Rowena, my darling, please donít let me down -
A few words from you can lift me off the ground. 
Your letters are treasures, you donít know their worth.
Days I donít receive one, I fall back to earth.

Rowena, my darling, just a word or two -  
It means the world to me, those few words from you. 
But when you donít send them, why canít you see? 
Itís as if the whole world had gone back on me. 

Tonight when Iím sleeping, I will dream of you - 
Wishfully thinking, what else can I do?
Then in the morning, itís always the same,
When dreaming is done, then I call out your name.

Tonight when Iím sleeping, I will dream of you -
Wishfully thinking, what else can I do?
Until tomorrow, I can only hope
For my heartís deliverance in an envelope.

Rowena, my dear, yours to hand this a.m. -
Iím holding your letter, in heaven again.
A few words from me now, to make sure you know,
As ever, Iím yours, yes, and I love you so.
	
Charlieís Last Song
Copyright ©2009 2nd Story Sound Records
 
Old Charlie could drink you under the table,
Old Charlie could sing all night long.
Old Charlie had fun, but his rambling is done,
And this is old Charlieís last song.

Old Charlie would fight, once he hit a policeman - 
They throwed him jail Ďcause thatís wrong.
And when he broke out, the cops took him on home,
And old Charlie, he played them a song.

Old Charlie could drink you under the table,
Old Charlie could sing all night long.
Old Charlie had fun, but his rambling is done,
And this is old Charlieís last song.

Old Charlie made moonshine for the local bootleggers,
Charlie, he had him a still.
And the money he made paid for a good banjo -
You canít make that wage down at the mill.

Old Charlie could drink you under the table,
Old Charlie could sing all night long.
Old Charlie had fun, but his rambling is done,
And this is old Charlieís last song.

Old Charlie could never hold on to a dollar -
He got famous, but he never got rich.
And he never amounted to much of a husband,
That banjo playing son of a bitch.

Old Charlie could drink you under the table,
Old Charlie could sing all night long.
Old Charlie had fun, but his rambling is done,
And this is old Charlieís last song.

Old Charlie once said that he had a black heart,
All except a small spot that was red.
If he drinks any more that red spot will turn black,
And Old Charlie at last will be dead.

Old Charlie could drink you under the table,
Old Charlie could sing all night long.
Old Charlie had fun, but his rambling is done,
And this was old Charlieís last song.
	
Times Is Hard
Copyright ©2010 Snowden Music, Inc.
 
Times is hard times is tough
Nothinís easy itís all rough
Not much right so much gone wrong
All I can do is play this song
 
Youíre watchiní the news it all looks bad
The worse half hour you ever had
What in godís name is goin on?
All I can do is play this song
 
Youíre losiní your job your house and your car
Hittiní rock bottom donít feel that far
Nothiní good is gonna come along
All I can do is play this song
 
Folks are scared from watchiní that news
Folks feel bad and theyíre gettiní the blues
My poor stomach it ainít that strong
All I can do is play this song
 
Times is tough times is hard
Take a pair of scissors to your credit card
Circuit City just said so long
All I can do is play this song
 
Whoís at fault? Who gets the blame?
Letís string up Bernie whatís his name
And ask Alan Greenspan to come along
All I can do is play this song
 
They want your gold and theyíll pay cash
The only silver lining is the price of gas
Moneyís short and the odds are long
All I can do is play this song
 
The factoryís closed the bank is bust
On the money it says ďIn God We TrustĒ
So pray for all your stocks and bonds
All I can do is play this song
 
Out of luck out of hope 
Iím wonderiní why I even cast that vote
I took that sign off of my front lawn
All I can do is play this song
 
Thereís a new man down there in D.C.
They say heís gonna help you and me
On Tuesday they was banginí the gong
All I did was to play this song

Last man in D.C. had 8 years
Whole damn country is in arrears
Got 2,3,4 wars goiní on
All I can do is play this song
 
Times is hard times is tough
Guess you folks need some cheeriní up
Weíll it ainít me babe you got that wrong
All I can do is play this song
 
You heard it here I sang it first
Donít feel so bad things are gonna get worse
Consider your selves all strung along
All I can do is play this song
	
House
Copyright ©2010 Snowden Music, Inc.
 
We buy the morning paper we read the sports and arts
We avoid the front page and the business section breaks our hearts
The obits are of interest since soon weíll have to go
 
But whatís unreal is the real estate itís a real horror show 
	
Thereís no way we can sell our house now so weíll have to stay
You canít up and walk out on me
And I canít run away
We vowed in sickness and in health
That means good times and bad
Letís hold on to each other
And the happiness we had
 
Our bed should be a lifeboat now not a battlefield
Letís not give up letís just give in letís not stop letís just yield
Forgive me dear for saying so
Please donít think iím a louse
But maybe itís a good thing we canít sell our house
 
Suppose we found a buyer we could go our separate ways
And consider all our time together just a passing phase
But we would lose each other dear and iím afraid weíd find
It was the best part of ourselves that we had left behind
 
I bought this house 8 years ago you made this place our home
We loved and fought and laughed and cried tears in our eyes have shone
Our house has lost some value due to this hard time
But selling it and splitting up would be the greatest crime
	 
We had our share of heartache before these times got tough
The roadís been a bit bumpy and the ride a little rough
Death will part us one day in lifeís game of cat and mouse
Till then letís stay together no we canít sell our house
 
Weíre in for the long run now iím speaking as your spouse
 
Our happiness is here at home
We canít sell our house

	
On to Victory, Mr. Roosevelt
Copyright ©2010 Snowden Music, Inc.
 
All hail to Mr. Roosevelt youíre the hero of the hour
We sent you on to Washington bestowed on you full power
This country is a vast domain itís the finest spot on earth
Weíve worked and struggled fought and won every conflict since our birth
 
On to victory Mr. Roosevelt youíll need one mighty strong
And now that youíre our president we know it wonít be long
Till folks are happy once again singiní this glad song
Mr Roosevelt weíre back of you 120 million strong
 
So cut expense tear down the fence between supply demand
Put folks to work donít let them shirk let farmers keep their land
They donít need cash to cut a dash thereís faith in those we trust
So when they say that they will pay they will not go and bust
 
On to victory Mr. Roosevelt weíll need one mighty strong
And now that youíre our president we know it wonít be long
Till folks are happy once again singiní this glad song
Mr. Roosevelt weíre back of you 120 million strong
 
So onward noble president we pledge our faith in you
Cause when we see your smiling face we never can be blue
So smile and pray work hard each day and soon things will be bright
The sun will shine weíll all feel fine everything will turn out right
 
On to victory Mr. Roosevelt weíll need one mighty strong
And now that youíre our president we know it wonít be long
Till folks are happy once again singiní this glad song
Mr. Roosevelt weíre back of you 120 million strong
 
Letís look into the future now many years from today
Thereíll be another president to help us find our way
A younger man with darker skin will then be called upon
And history will repeat itself and folks will sing this song

On to victory Mr. Obama  weíll need one mighty strong
And now that youíre our president we know it wonít be long
Till folks are happy once again singiní this glad song
Mr. Obama weíre back of you 300 million strong
	
Fear Itself
Copyright ©2010 Snowden Music, Inc.
 
Everybodyís scared everybodyís nervous everybody feeliní uptight
Nobody knows when the hammerís comin down might be  today tomorrow or tonight
Everybodyís talkiní bout 1929
80 Long years ago
        
In the 70s we waited for gas on a line
Man that seems like  next to nothiní now  you know
Bought myself a house over in the valley
Thought I had a money makiní machine
Canít sell the place now  iím in a dark alley
Liviní the american dream

You know that job I always said that I hated
Well, yesterday they gave me the sack
Loviní your work is so damn over rated
I sure wish to god I had that job back
Check out the illegals standiní on the corner
Watchiní all the cars go by

Lord they used to look bored but now theyíre lookiní hungry
You can see the  desperation in their eyes
I guess youíre glad you got yourself a college education
That oughta come in handy one day
Why I just read about a guy robbed a filliní station
On account of college loans he had to pay(back)
 
Itís pretty bad here but itís really  bad there
And in iceland thereís a riot goin íon
In la theyíre shuttiní down the dmv on friday
Now the weekend feels a little too long
 
You got depression and recession
Inflation and deflation
Lord it messiní with my heart and soul and brains
Iím sick of all the  stimulation I need  a long vacation
Iíll take along a book by maynard keynes

Grandma used to tell us how she lived through the depression
And the best way out is always right through
But she was mean and crazy just a nasty old lady
Stay in bed thatís what iím gonna do
	
The Panic Is On
Copyright ©2010 Snowden Music, Inc.
 
What this country is cominí to
Some would like to know
If they donít do something by and by
The rich will live and the poor will die
Doggone I mean the panic is on
 
Canít get no work canít draw no pay
Things are gettiní worser each & every day
Nothiní to eat no place to sleep
All night long folks are walkiní the street
Doggone I mean the panic is on
 
Saw a man this morning walking down the street
No shoes on his feet
You oughta seen the women in their flats
You could hear íem sayiní ďwhat kind of man is that?Ē
Doggone I mean the panic is on
 
All them landlords done raised the rent
Folks are gettiní broken and theyíre badly bent
Where they gets the dough from goodness knows
But if they donít produce it in the street they go
Doggone I mean the panic is on
 
Some play numbers some read your mind
Some got rackets of all kinds
Some are trimminí corns off of peopleís feet
They got to do something just to make ends meet
Doggone I mean the panic is on
 
Some women selliní apples some selliní pie
Sellin gin whiskey and rye
Some are selliní socks to support their man
In fact some selliní everything they can
Doggone I mean the panic is on
 
Iíve pawned my clothes Iíve  pawned my everything
Pawned my jewlery my watch and ring
Pawned my razor but not my gun
If luck donít change theyíll be some stealiní done
Doggone I mean the panic is on
 
Old prohibitionís ruined everything
That is why I must sing
Hereís one thing I want you all to hear
If they donít bring back light wine gin and beer
Doggone the panic will be on
	
The Krugman Blues
Copyright ©2010 Snowden Music, Inc.
 
I read the NY times itís where I get my news
Paul krugmanís on the opĖed page thatís where I get the blues
Cause Paul always tells it like it is we get it blow by blow
Krugmanís got the nobel prize so krugman ought to know

When Paul goes on the news hour to talk to old jim lehrer
He looks so sad and crestfallen itís more than I can bear
And all the other experts all seem way off base
And I guess that I identify with that pissed off look on Paulís face

When paul gets really bummed out thatís when I get scared
But if Paul says thereís a glint of hope I feel weíve all been spared
Sometimes when heís on the tv in the back round you can spot his school logo
Krugman teaches at Princeton u so Krugman ought to know
	
Heís got that hang dog look about him Paulís one unhappy pup
Krugman looks so downtrodden I wish heíd lighten up
And I know he wants to clue us in concerning our impending doom
But I got the Krugman blues from all Paulís gloom

Once I sawKkrugman on a train amtrackiní to DC
I recognized his sad face cause I seen it on the tv
He looked up from his laptop when I said ďHello PaulĒ
Then I said ďKeep up all the good work, Paul-you bring me down but way to go, Paul!Ē
Halloween 2009
Copyright ©2010 Snowden Music, Inc.
 
Tell me who you gonna be on halloween?
A witch or a pirate? A gypsy or a clown?
Howís about a zombie fresh out of the ground?
For halloween last year I was a king  had a sceptre a crown ermine robe ruby ring

Then in december everything tanked
My entire portfolio and all that iíd banked on
Lost the mansion the yacht the wife and the wealth
It all went up in smoke including my health
Insurance? Forget it lost that with the job
What I need is a gun now and a bank I can rob
I was a king but my kingdomís destroyed
Iíll be dillinger this year or pretty boy Floyd
 
10/31 Time to make the big scene
Who you gonna be on halloween?
The mummy ?The werewolf? Howís about Shreck?
Frankensteinís creature with a bolt in your neck?
Maybe this year I can be a bum, buddy spare me a dime, a crust or a crumb
Some smart lucky fat cats got out of the jam
Bernieís in prison but Greenspanís on the lamb
My favorite get up when I was a teen was to dress down like a hobo on halloween
Iíd black out a few teeth charcoal in a beard and pretend to have nothing
Be forgotten and feared
You know a bum is someone thatís not so bad to be
In a sense somewhat honest and to some extent free
 
Carve out a pumpkin make a big scene
Who you gonna be on halloween?
Vampires are sexy this year theyíre in
But beiní the friendly ghost ainít no sin
        
Now itís trick or treatiní time just as sure as your born
The kids are gonna want a lot of candy corn
Boys down on Wall st. will be up to their tricks
Cause thereís always a way to put in the fix
Black cats, cobwebs, bats, halloween
Just about time to make the scary scene
But the scariest monster wonít be at your door
Heís on cnbc where thereís real blood & gore
You better turn off your tv hide under your bed
Itís mad moneyís Jim Cramer and heís back from the dead
	
The Middle of the Night
Copyright ©2010 Snowden Music, Inc.
 
Into this pitch darkness weíre hurled
Where thereís not a glimmer of light
Itís not the end of the world
Itís just the middle of the night
	 
And the blackest of flags is unfurled
In all this absence of light
Itís not the end of the world good people
Merely the middle of the night
 
The middle of the night thatís what this is
If death is the real test this is just a quiz
When grey creeps through your window it will be day light
The end of this darkness is almost in sight
 
Into a ball of fear you are curled
And youíre holding on with all of your might
But itís not the end of the world little sister
Itís just the middle of the night
 
In the maelstrom of your mind you are swirled
Youíre almost down the drain but not quite
Itís not the end of the world my brother
Rather the middle of the night
 
The middle of the night when you fear everything
But the birds will awake soon you will hear them sing
You doubted youíd make it not sure youíd survive
Now youíre dead tired youíre still alive
 
Around fateís fickle finger weíre twirled
Small wonder weíre all so up tight
But itís not the end of the world good people
Merely  the middle of the night
No itís not the end of the world as we know it
Itís just the middle of the night
	
Cash For Clunkers
Copyright ©2010 Snowden Music, Inc.
 
Cash for clunkers heal that economy
Buy an envoy, yukon, or sierra
Cash for clunkers bail out gmc
Cash for clunkers put the pedal to the metal
Get cash for clunkers cause time is running out
Smell that new car smell and suddenly itís springtime
Cash for clunkers hope  is what itís all about
 
Your old shortís is just a heap a rattletrap thatís certain
God knows whatís beneath the seats never mind the hood
And your local dealership these days those boys are hurtiní
So unload that ancient mode of transport do a world of good
ďCash for clunkersĒ who came up with that one?
ďCash for  clunkersĒ kinda has a catchy ring
Was it Geitner or Bernanke maybe Larry Summers?
ďCash for clunkersĒ 3 words I love to  sing!
 
Cash for clunkers you can shout it from the rooftops
Cash for clunkers you can sing it night and day
Buy my song my friend and put it on your iPod
Cash for clunkers you can save the USA 
  
My rusting Volvo died itís parked and sinking in my back yard
Just an ugly installation sore to each and every eye
Weíll pump up the 4 flat tires on that swedish puppy
Weíll tow it to Toyota buy a Prius by and by
 
Cash for clunkers more than just a gimmick
Cash for clunkers now we got a plan
Itís hard to wrap your head around that health care coverage thing
But cash for clunkers you can kinda understand!

Cash for clunkers get rid of that jalopy
Cash for clunkers junk that piece of junk
Stash your contraband and your wifeís dead body
Cash for clunkers load & lock Ďem in the trunk
	
Got a Ukulele
Copyright ©2010 Snowden Music, Inc.
 
Got a ukulele now iím not a fraidy
Cat in case I get a bout of blues
In the event I get Ďem
Thereís no way that Iíll let Ďem
Bring me down no way Iíll just refuse(believe me)
 
Cause a ukuleleís like a little baby
You cradle it in your arms and you sing
A lullaby or ditty
When youíre feeling shitty
It will cheer you up
Itís just the thing
 
Life should be bright and breezy
Winds could be light and easy
Thereís nothing hard or heavy bout a uke
I donít play bull fiddle
No mystery no riddle
Schleppiní that thing you look like a kook
 
4 Strings made of nylon
Always put a smile on
Anybodyís face whoís feeliní blue
When your mind starts slumminí
Start a little strumminí
On your uke and youíre gonna feel brand new(you gotta believe me)
 
Even though itís raininí
Quit all your complaininí
Your roofís not leakiní nothinís gettiní in
This axe is a hatchet thereís magic you can catch it
On your uke you canít lose you just win
	 
Life should be bright and breezy
Winds could be light and easy
Thereís nothiní hard or heavy bout a uke
I donít play the tuba tubaís do it to ya
Just the thought of tubas makes me puke
 
Kind sirs and gentle ladies grab your ukuleles
I suspect by now you know my song
And the next time that I do it
Get down and get into it
I trust you all will sing and strum along(you gotta believe me)