The latest songwriting thread in Mastery made me wonder if others have a yen, as I do, to rewrite lyrics. If so, why not take a stab at it and post here.

They could be funny or cast the song in a different light or simply be better lyrics!

I'll get it started. I morphed THE WEIGHT into a religious country song.


THE WEIGHT

You say you’ve been forsaken, feelin’ ‘bout half past dead.
All you want’s a sleeping pill and a pillow for your head.
You’ve got nothin’ to hope for, and everything to dread.
Ann, just come and sit a while and talk with me instead.

Take a load off, Annie.
Give it all to me.
Take a load off, Annie.
Ann, Ann, Ann, you can put the load right on me.

You pulled into to Nazareth, lookin’ for a place to hide.
On the way you saw a man with the devil by his side.
Visions in the desert, stonings in the town.
The man said we’re all sinners here, so put the stones down.

Take a load off, Annie.
Give it all to me.
Take a load off, Annie.
Ann, Ann, Ann, you can put the load right on me.

You pulled into Bethany, and stayed there for a night
In a house where a woman worked real hard to keep her house right.
Her sister lingered with the guests, her life was a delight.
Annie, let that burden go. Don’t fight it, give it flight.

Take a load off, Annie.
Give it all to me.
Take a load off, Annie.
Ann, Ann, Ann, you can put the load right on me.

Hey holy man, hey wand’rin’ man, another man said to me.
I met a young girl with a hurtin’ mind, unhappy as can be.
I saw her just this morning, by a withered fig tree.
Wontch’a go and comfort her, she needs some company.

Take a load off, Annie.
Give it all to me.
Take a load off, Annie.
Ann, Ann, Ann, you can put the load right on me.

Down on Erato (Tune: Down in the Valley)

Down on Erato, 'Rato so low,
Four-letter words and Michel Foucault.
Michel Foucault, love, Michel Foucault,
Four-letter words and Michel Foucault.

Sonnets with f-bombs, sonnets with "pee"--
Formalist poets love gaucherie.
Love gaucherie, love, love gaucherie,
Formalist poets love gaucherie.

But I suppose it averages out:
Half of our poems are strictly devout.
Strictly devout, love, strictly devout,
Half of our poems are strictly devout.

Down on Erato, where you can see
Eschatologic scatology.
Scatology, love, scatology,
Eschatologic scatology.

Julie Stoner

[Okay, I lost the meter there in the last stanza, but if you sing it...]


[This message has been edited by Julie Stoner (edited May 04, 2006).]

Oh, I relyric lots of songs. I don't think I can post any of them, though. Especially the one to the tune of "Sweet Soul Music". No.... never THAT one.

del.

[This message has been edited by Robert Meyer (edited May 28, 2006).]

Bugsy,

Why don't you post that Bob Dylan sendoff ,"Stuck here in time-out..."? I loved it.

Marion

Some of you young-uns probably don't recall this early Beatles hit, but some of you (you know who you are) will remember it. I wrote this parody of "I wanna hold your hand" when I was in grade school:

I Wanna Burn the School

Oh I've got that something--
please don't say I'm a fool--
when I feel that something,
I wanna burn the school!

I wanna burn the scho-oo-ool
I wanna burn the school.

Oh please say to me
you don't think I'm a fool--
and please say to me
you'll help me burn the school.

I wanna burn the scho-oo-ool
I wanna burn the school.

And when I burn it all the students who have cried
will all be happy 'cuz the teachers
are inside
are inside
are inside!

So please say to me
you'll help me light the fuel
and please say to me
you'll help me burn the school.
Come help me burn the school--

I wanna burn the schoo-oo-ool
I wanna burn the school--(dramatic pause)
I wanna burn the scho--oo--oo--oo-oo--oo--ool!

LMAO, Marion! PLEASE tell me that grown-up Marion tweaked that some, or I'm gonna feel even more inferior.

Here's Dylan in Kindergarten, as you requested. Hope you still like it.

****

Well, I drew some silly pictures of Miss Wendy just for fun -
where her face looked like a hot dog, and her ears looked like a bun.
It made her really angry, and she said I couldn’t play;
then she sent me in the corner, and ordered me to stay.

Oh, mama, is this how it’s going to end –
with me stuck inside in time-out, with the recess blues again?

Now, Jamie brought a pony to Show and Tell today.
He said they feed it baseballs, but I saw it eating hay.
He says he likes to ride it when they’re herding artichoke
but nobody was laughing, cause we know it’s not a joke.

Oh, mama, is this how it’s going to end –
with me stuck inside in time-out, with the recess blues again?

They make us kids wear trousers, so we never wet our pants.
And they try to teach us Spanish just in case we go to France.
They always make us nap, but I don’t ever really sleep,
cause my mat's a smelly carpet from the floorboard of a jeep.

Oh, mama, is this how it’s going to end –
with me stuck inside in time-out, with the recess blues again?

Well, Mama made my lunch, and told me, “Here’s two treats for you.”
The one was cherry yogurt, and the other gopher stew.
I ate them mixed together, but it didn’t taste so hot.
And now I'm kind of dizzy, and I’m pottying a lot.

Oh, mama, is this how it’s going to end –
with me stuck inside in time-out, with the recess blues again?

I have to hug Miss Wendy, when I go home, every day.
My Mama says to do it, and she always gets her way.
I never make an ugly face - I hug her really nice -
Cause I don’t want to have to go through kindergarten twice.

Oh, mama, is this how it’s going to end –
with me stuck inside in time-out, with the recess blues again?

Bugsy

Luigi,

I never knew that you were so inclined,
Or have I merely been too blind to realize

Oh Luigi
Why you've been growing up before my very eyes

Luigi
You're not at all that funny awkward little girl I knew

Oh no
Overnight there's been a breastless change in you.

Oh Luigi
While you were trembling on the brink
was I out yonder somewhere drinking in a bar?

When did you set your bra on fire
why, your pitch was so much higher

Oh what miracle has made you the way you are?

Luigi
let me pour another drink
and we’ll make out in the back seat of my car.


Oh Luigi
we don’t see men like you in Mullingar.
When did you set your bra on fire
why, your pitch was so much higher.

Oh what miracle has made you the way you are?

[This message has been edited by Jim Hayes (edited May 06, 2006).]

JUST LIKE A BABY

Nobody eats any cheese
Tonight my baby just eats peas
Everybody knows
Baby's got ten toes
But lately I see that he only has one nose
And Elmo is his favorite toy
He takes just like a baby, yes, he does
He breaks wind just like a baby, yes, he does
And he shakes rattles just like a baby,
But he makes pooh just like a little boy

Big Bird, he's my friend
Yes, I believe I'll visit him again
Nobody has to guess
Baby can't be dressed
Till all the yogurt has been wiped from off his chest
Though every time I do it he's annoyed
He takes just like a baby, yes, he does
He breaks wind just like a baby, yes, he does
And he shakes rattles just like a baby,
But he makes pooh just like a little boy

He was hungry from the first
And was born with a thirst
That we satisfied
And this lack of sleep hurts
But what's worse
Is the way he cried
Every day he cried
Let me say that--

He's just too cute
Yes, I believe it is my horn I toot
I'll say it once again
Some day when this all ends
I’ll remember that I knew you when
You laughed yourself to sleep each night with joy
You take just like a baby, yes, you do
You break wind just like a baby, yes, you do
And you shake rattles just like a baby,
But you make pooh just like a little boy

del.

[This message has been edited by Robert Meyer (edited May 28, 2006).]

License to Grill

The neighbour thinks 'cause it’s the month of May then it’s time to barbecue
And if there’s just a hint of sunshine, then he will.
Oh, it’s only a quarter to four,
But there’s smoke coming in at my door.

Now, there's a Vegan on my block,
She just sit there as the night grows still.
She say who gonna take away his license to grill?

Now, he’s drinking cans of lager and he’s taken off his shirt.
Soon he’ll fill himself with burgers which make him ill.
Then he’ll stay up half the night,
Very likely get into a fight.

Now, there's a Vegan on my block,
She just sit there facin' the hill.
She say who gonna take away his license to grill?

Now, he’s roasting different pieces of poultry, pork and beef,
And he thinks this form of cooking requires skill.
He imagines the meaning of fun
Is sitting getting drunk in the sun.

But there's a Vegan on my block,
Sitting there in a cold chill.
She say who gonna take away his license to grill?

Yeah, he’s a noisemaker, troublemaker,
Lawbreaker, wiseacre,
Leaves no steak unturned.
You’d never guess that Geoff
was such a good chef.
That’s another sausage burned.

Now he worships at his altar with its stinking coals,
And when they’re glowing to perfection he’s fulfilled.
Oh, the man is opposed to fair play,
He wants it all and he wants it his way.

Now, there's a Vegan on my block,
She just sit there as the night grows still.
She say who gonna take away his license to grill?

I believe at least a few Eratospherians are familiar with Marcy Shaffer's blog. She's been posting weekly current event re-writes of lyrics since October of last year.

What's really exciting, if you like musical parody, is that she's begun setting the lyrics to actual music... with very <u>impressive</u> results.

Check it out.

DBC

It's a slim chance that any of you know who the Dresden Dolls are, but I re-wrote their song "Coin-Operated Boy" a while ago. It can be enjoyed even if you don't know the real words, I think.

Old-People Everywhere

Old-people everywhere
with their liver spots
and their balding hair
all that patchy skin
sagging everywhere
old-people on the prowl
so I say, “beware”
‘cuz there’s old-people everywhere

Bum-bum

With their plastic hips and hearts
When they’re dead they’ll fall apart
Who could ever, ever ask for more?
Old-people browsing the grocery store…

Many dates and times to forget
When I’m old I might just lose it
I will never remember again
Alzheimer’s is messing with my head…

Bum-bum

Old-people everywhere
I guess when you’re old – it’s not very fair
‘cuz all them young ‘uns
they don’t smell like onions
and they’ll never ever know what it’s like not to be old…
what it’s like not to be old…
and they’ll never ever know…
what it’s like not to be old…
what it’s like not to be old…
‘cuz there’s old-people everywhere

bum-bum
[BRIDGE]
this bridge was written
for the elder’s new kitten
who has not been fed
for six weeks – it’s near dead
yes, it’s really quite scary
for this poor cat, named Larry
is hungry, please feed him
he’s starving, I love him
don’t loose him, stop dying
just feed him, start trying
I love him, I’m crying
‘cuz I want you
I want you
I want you
To feed him
I want you
I want you
I want you
I want a…
I want some…
I want some…
I want some…

Old-people everywhere…

-some instrumentation-

and if they had strong bones to lean on
for their life, they can’t imagine
and child wanting to get old
to smell like steaming cabbage and some mold

Bum-bum

Old-people everywhere
They may not be real – useful to the world
But they are still people
So I guess I’ll treat them
With some respect
I think that’s very fair

ding-ding

Old-people everywhere
With all their old... people catatonic stares
Dreaming that they are free
To digest macaroni
Without any problems
Oh God, how I love them

Old-people everywhere

BUM-BUM

Any Tom Lehrer fans out there?

If you know him, you may feel it's arrogant to write a parody of him, since he is probably the best satiric songwriter in the universe.

However, I had the cojones to do it.

Those of you who know me, will probably know where this is coming from!

Here's the original. You can even listen to the melody, and sing along!

National Brotherhood Week

Oh the Angles hate the Saxons,
and the Saxons hate the Angles,
the Normans hate the Frisians,
and everybody hates the Jutes.

But during National Brotherhood Week,
National Brotherhood Week,
It's National Don't-Eviscerate
One-Another-hood Week,
go up and shoot the breeze
with your Celtic enemies,
you won't have to club them if you try!


http://www.domainnamesanity.com/webu...nglosaxon1.jpg

I got round to recording that Dylan spoof. Listen here.

Duncan

I'm having trouble deciding whether Julie Stoner's is funnier (and truer) than Roger Slater's (which is in a world all its own). Roger's is gentler, Julie's is so apt it's hazardous.

All you others so far are doing good too.