[Martin Rocek]

Some free association reminded me of this minor masterpiece; though it was
written in 1964, it seems remarkably timeless (except perhaps the Brinkley and Huntley line). Enjoy!

Tom Lehrer
So Long, Mom (A Song for World War III)

This year we've been celebrating the hundredth anniversary of the Civil War and the fiftieth anniversary of the beginning of World War I and the twentieth anniversary of the end of World War II so all in all it's been a good year for the war buffs and a number of LPs and television specials have come out capitalizing on all this "nostalgia"; with particular emphasis on the songs of the various wars. I feel that if any songs are going to come out of World War III we'd better start writing them now. I have one here. You might call it a bit of pre-nostalgia. This is the song that some of the boys sang as they went bravely of to World War III.

So long, Mom,
I'm off to drop the bomb,
So don't wait up for me.
But while you swelter
Down there in your shelter,
You can see me
On your TV.

While we're attacking frontally,
Watch Brinkally and Huntally,
Describing contrapuntally
The cities we have lost.
No need for you to miss a minute
Of the agonizing holocaust. (Yeah!)

Little Johnny Jones he was a U.S. pilot,
And no shrinking vi'let was he.
He was mighty proud when World War Three was declared,
He wasn't scared,
No siree!

And this is what he said on
His way to Armageddon:

So long, Mom,
I'm off to drop the bomb,
So don't wait up for me.
But though I may roam,
I'll come back to my home,
Although it may be
A pile of debris.

Remember, Mommy,
I'm off to get a commie,
So send me a salami,
And try to smile somehow.
I'll look for you when the war is over,
An hour and a half from now!

[Martin Rocek]

One more:

We Will All Go Together When We Go

I am reminded at this point of a fellow I used to know whose name was Henry, only to give you an idea of what a individualist he was, he spelled it H-E-N-3-R-Y. The three was silent, you see.

Henry was financially independent, having inherited his father's tar-and-feather business, and was therefore able to devote his full time to such intellectual pursuits as writing. I particularly remember a heartwarming novel of his about a young necrophiliac who finally achieved his boyhood ambition by becoming coroner. ... (scattered laughter) The rest of you can look it up when you get home.

In addition to writing, he indulged in a good deal of philosophizing. Like so many contemporary philosophers, he especially enjoyed giving helpful advice to people who were happier than he was. And one particular bit of advice which I recall - which is the reason I bring up this whole dreary story - is something he said once, before they took him away to the Massachusetts State Home for the Bewildered.

He said: "Life is like a sewer - what you get out of it depends on what you put into it." It's always seemed to me that this is precisely the sort of dynamic, positive thinking that we so desperately need today in these trying time of crisis and universal brouhaha. And so with this in mind, I have here a modern, positive, dynamic, uplifting song, in the tradition of the great old revival hymns. This one might more accurately be termed a survival hymn. It goes like this:

When you attend a funeral,
It is sad to think that sooner or'l
Later those you love will do the same for you.
And you may have thought it tragic,
Not to mention other adjec-
Tives, to think of all the weeping they will do.
(But don't you worry.)

No more ashes, no more sackcloth,
And an arm band made of black cloth
Will some day nevermore adorn a sleeve.
For if the bomb that drops on you
Gets your friends and neighbors too,
There'll be nobody left behind to grieve.

And we will all go together when we go.
What a comforting fact that is to know.
Universal bereavement,
An inspiring achievement,
Yes, we will all go together when we go.

We will all go together when we go.
All suffused with an incandescent glow.
No one will have the endurance
To collect on his insurance,
Lloyd's of London will be loaded when they go.

Oh we will all fry together when we fry.
We'll be French fried potatoes by and by.
There will be no more misery
When the world is our rotisserie,
Yes, we will all fry together when we fry.

Down by the old maelstrom,
There'll be a storm before the calm.

And we will all bake together when we bake.
There'll be nobody present at the wake.
With complete participation
In that grand incineration,
Nearly three billion hunks of well-done steak.

Oh we will all char together when we char.
And let there be no moaning of the bar.
Just sing out a Te Deum
When you see that I.C.B.M.,*
And the party will be come-as-you-are.

Oh, we will all burn together when we burn.
There'll be no need to stand and wait your turn.
When it's time for the fallout
And Saint Peter calls us all out,
We'll just drop our agendas and adjourn.

You will all go directly to your respective Valhallas.
Go directly, do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollahs.

And we will all go together when we go.
Every Hottentot and every Eskimo.
When the air becomes uranious,
We will all go simultaneous.
Yes, we all will go together
When we all go together,
Yes we all will go together when we go.

[Gail White]

Lehrer had the gift of being funny about the chilling prospect of total war, and the years have only increased the irony of his song that begins:

First we got the bomb, and that was good,
'Cause we love peace and brotherhood.
Next Russia got the bomb, but that's okay,
'Cause the balance of power's maintained that way.

And ends with:

We'll all try to stay real calm
When ___________* gets the bomb.

*Insert scary country of your choice.
It's "Alabama" in the original.

[Wendy Sloan]

Oh, Martin, I'd forgotten that one, "Goodbye, Mommy; I'm off to get a commie, so send me a salami, and try to smile somehow..." What a hoot!

That other classic Gail quoted, "Who's Next" closed with the refrain, "Who's next, who's next, who's next?"

Unfortunately, these songs are just as timely today as they were in the '60's so, it seems we've been living on borrowed time ever since. Running out? Laugh or cry.

[Roger Slater]

I've always been fond of these lines from Vatican Rag:

Get in line in that processional,
Step into that small confessional.
There the guy who's got religion'll
Tell you if your sin's original.
If it is, try playin' it safer,
Drink the wine and chew the wafer,
Two, four, six, eight,
Time to transubstantiate!

*

And from the same song, talk about fancy rhyming!, this:

Do whatever steps you want if
You have cleared them with the Pontiff.
Everybody say his own
Kyrie eleison,
Doin' the Vatican Rag.

[This message has been edited by Roger Slater (edited February 26, 2008).]