Donald Cottontail

A reworking of a popular Easter song, "Here Comes Peter Cottontail," composed by Steve Nelson and Jack Rollins.

Nursery Rhyme Nuptials

What a week at the Supreme Court.  One day we're down, the next day we're up.  Here's a ditty to celebrate the rulings on same-sex marriage.  Sing to the tune of "Jack and Jill" from Mother Goose Rhymes.

Joan and Jill
Went to the Hill
To see if they could marry.
Joan found out
There was no doubt
And so could Tom and Harry.

Deen Cuisine

It's hard not to move when Michael Jackson sings "Billie Jean," especially in this video as he performs the first moonwalk.  I thought of this song yesterday when I read that Southern cook Paula Deen had been dropped from the Food Network.  Anyone who cooks a cheeseburger sandwiched between two doughnuts deserves her own song.  Sing to the tune of "Billie Jean":

She was more like a cooking queen on the TV screen
I said don't mind, but what do you cook? I am the one
Who will eat all this junk that's prepared.
She said I am the one who will cook what I want on this show.

She told me her name was Paula Deen and she caused a scene
'Cause every head turned with eyes that dreamed of being the one
Who would eat all this junk that's prepared.

People always told her be careful of what you say
Don't go around making racist jokes
And Matt Lauer asked her to come down to his show
But she was too tired and cancelled her plans
Hey, hey, hey

Well, Paula Deen was dropped for good
She's just a girl who cooks with lots of bad stuff
Like sugar, cream, and fat
She cooks really bad stuff
With sugar, cream, and fat.

She cooks really bad stuff
With sugar, cream, and fat.

Can't Stop Singing 'bout Those Unborn Babies

The House Judiciary Committee approved a bill this week, sponsored not surprisingly by the Republicans, called the Pain-Capable Unborn Child Protection Act.  What are these people thinking, if they're thinking at all?  Here's a song that might explain their mindset.  Sing to the tune of "I've Been Working on the Railroad":

We've been working on abortion
All the live-long day,
We've been working on abortion
Just to pass the time away.
Can't you hear the liberals moaning
Heaping on their endless scorn?
We'll pretend we cannot hear them
As we save the unborn.

Women don't you know?
Women don't you know?
Women don't you know that we're in charge?
Women don't you know?
Women don't you know?
Women we're in charge of you.

Someone's getting pregnant right now-ow
Someone's getting pregnant we know-oh-oh-oh
Someone's getting pregnant right now-ow
Someone who just couldn't say no.

We're singing
We'll save li'l embryos
We'll save li'l embryos-ohs-ohs-ohs
We'll save li'l embryos
Forgetting 'bout their mothers' woes.

Wedding Plan Blues

"Wedding Bell Blues," written by Laura Nyro and produced by "The 5th Dimension," spent 3 weeks in 1969 in the #1 spot on the U. S. pop singles chart.  I thought of it this week when I was in the thick of wedding plans for my daughter Madeleine, referred to below as "Mad."  Here goes:

Mad, I love you so, I always will
I look at you and see the child born in May
Oh, but what a trip it is to plan your wedding day.
I am on the phone now making arrangements
Keeping track of details and all the payments
But nothing will stop me worrying 'til you marry him, Mad

I love you so, I always will
And in your voice I hear a choir of carousels
Oh, but are we ever gonna hear your wedding bells?
I am the one who is reading contracts and packets
Stealing myself to the sales pitch and to the rackets
But nothing will stop me worrying 'til you marry him, Mad

I love you so, I always will
And though devotion rules my heart I take no bows
But Mad are you ever gonna take those wedding vows?
Oh, come on Mad
Oh, come on Mad
Come on and marry him, Mad
I got the wedding plan blues
Please marry him, Mad
I got the wedding plan blues.

House at Chris Corner

Kenny Loggins wrote a lovely song called "House at Pooh Corner," which he performed in 1971 with Jim Messina.  (If you don't know it, click here for a delightful rendition--and a trip back in time.)  I thought of this song when I saw images of Barack Obama and Chris Christie at the Jersey shore again this week.  The two of them remind me of Christopher Robin and Pooh, who are celebrated in the song.  Unlike the original tune, my version is sung entirely from the point of view of the Pooh character, that is, Chris Christie:

Mr. Obama and I walked along
the New Jersey coast just this past week
Now that we're buddies we see eye to eye
On disasters and FEMA relief.
But I've wandered much farther this week than I should
From my GOP roots--it's my old neighborhood.

So help me if you can I've got to get
Back to the party that voted for me
You'd be surprised how the GOP feels
I'm now a traitor for sure
They'd like to show me the door.
Before the days of Mr. Obama and Chris.

Barack the Prez always knows what to do
When the people get hit by a storm
He came to Jersey with help and advice
And he always makes good on his word.
So I sent him away with a new teddy bear
He's my friend, after all, which I know is so rare.

So help me if you can I've got to get
Back to the party that voted for me
You'd be surprised how the GOP feels
I'm now a traitor for sure
They'd like to show me the door.
Before the days of Mr. Obama,
Before the days of Mr. Obama,
Back to the days of Chris.

Tarmac Times

Yesterday I got to do something I haven't done in a long time--see someone off at the airport from inside the airlines gate.  Ever since September 11 we've had to drop people off--pull up to the curb, unload their bags, and speed away.  But since Miranda flew as an unaccompanied minor ("UMMMMMM," as we call her) to Boston last night, I was able to be with her until she boarded her plane.

Here's a song to celebrate the memory of old times at the airport.  Sing to the tune of Peter, Paul & Mary's "Leaving on a Jet Plane":

So your bags are packed, you're ready to go
I'm standing here inside the gate
Watching all the planes glide in and out
But they haven't called your row just yet
The pilot's smokin' a cigarette
Already I'm so sad to see you go.

So kiss me and smile for me
Turn around and wave at me
Let me know that you'll be back again
You're leavin' on that jet plane
The one that's on the tarmac now
I'll wait and watch you go.

There's so many times I dropped you off
When the TSA don't let you stop
I tell you now, they've changed everything
For we're all potential terrorists
With suspicious shoes and underwear
We're patted down, it's all too much to bear.

So kiss me and smile for me
Turn around and wave at me
Let me know that you'll be back again
You're leavin' on that jet plane
The one that's on the tarmac now
I'll wait and watch you go.

Ants on the Move

When I told our electrician this week that I was battling ants, he replied, "Who isn't?"  I guess I'm not alone.  Here's a song about this latest invasion, a version of "The Ants Go Marching":

The ants go marching ten by ten, hurrah, hurrah,
The ants go marching ten by ten, hurrah, hurrah,
The ants go marching ten by ten
I see they're back in my house again
And they all go marching down to the ground to get out of my way.
Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom.

The ants go marching eight by eight, hurrah, hurrah,
The ants go marching eight by eight, hurrah, hurrah,
The ants go marching eight by eight
I set out traps that are filled with bait
And they all go marching down to the ground to get out of my way.
Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom.

The ants go marching six by six, hurrah, hurrah,
The ants go marching six by six, hurrah, hurrah,
The ants go marching six by six,
I smash two more with a ton of bricks
And they all go marching down to the ground to get out of my way.
Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom.

The ants go marching four by four, hurrah, hurrah,
The ants go marching four by four, hurrah, hurrah,
The ants go marching four by four
I think it's time to declare a war
And they all go marching down to the ground to get out of my way.
Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom.

The ants go marching two by two, hurrah, hurrah,
The ants go marching two by two, hurrah, hurrah,
The ants go marching two by two
I flush them both right down the loo
And they all go marching down to the ground to get out of my way.
Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom.

The ants go marching zero by zero, hurrah, hurrah,
The ants go marching zero by zero, hurrah, hurrah,
The ants go marching zero by zero
I now declare myself a hero
'Til they all come marching up from the ground to get back in my way.
Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom.

The Royal Redhead

What's not to like about Prince Harry?  The pictures from Washington are delightful.  Here's a song to celebrate his visit--sing to the tune of that old summer camp song "Bingo":

There was a prince who came to town
And Harry was his name, Oh!
H  A  R  R  Y
H  A  R  R  Y
H  A  R  R  Y
And Harry was his name, Oh!

The locals oohed and aahed they did
As Harry toured the sites, Oh!
*  A  R  R  Y
*  A  R  R  Y
*  A  R  R  Y
And Harry was his name, Oh!

He toured the town with John McCain,
Two warriors together.
*  *  R  R  Y
*  *  R  R  Y
*  *  R  R  Y
and Harry was his name, Oh!

He and Michelle became fast friends,
They bonded at the White House.
*  *  *  R  Y
*  *  *  R  Y
*  *  *  R  Y
And Harry was his name, Oh!

He has his mother's charm, he does
In visits with the soldiers.
*  *  *  *  Y
*  *  *  *  Y
*  *  *  *  Y
And Harry was his name, Oh!

Americans like royalty
And Harry fits the bill, Oh!
*  *  *  *  *
*  *  *  *  *
*  *  *  *  *
And Harry was his name, Oh!

Sanford Saga

What can you say about former South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford, one of the creepier politicians in the news these days?  He should have exited quietly, following his North Carolina counterpart John Edwards.  But he didn't.

Here's James Taylor's lovely song "Carolina In My Mind," twisted into a tale of Sanford sleaze:

"In my mind I'm going to Carolina.  Can't you see Mark Sanford, can't you just see his soul mate?
And ain't it just like a guy like him to put his ego first?  Yes, I'm going to Carolina for some sleaze.

Jenny, she's the jilted wife, she just charged her ex with trespassing,
He was standing on her porch.
A cellphone flashlight in his hand has left him guilty, and he went to Carolina by mistake.

There ain't no doubt he should have walked the Appy Trail as he first claimed
'stead of meeting his soul mate.
And hey, babe, it's Argentina calling to him, but it's Carolina where he should have been.

So for now he's running in Carolina.  Can't you tell he's nutty?  Can't you just tell he's too loose?
And it ain't it just like this governor to run a rambling ad? 
It's the Alamo he thinks he's up against.

Going to Carolina for to win.  Yes, he'll win in Carolina in his mind.

W

Here's a song in honor of the opening of the George W. Bush Presidential Library this week.  Sing to the tune of "Georgy Girl":

Hey there!  W!
Why is it that you don't seem so bad?
Is it 'cause we don't remember all
Of the harm you caused our country.

Hey there!  W!
Why have you been so ignored thus far?
Is it 'cause you left a mess that nobody can clean up?
You always seemed lighthearted, you never seemed too upset
With Dick and Rummy running the show, a little bit.

Hey there!  W!
There's a different side of you displayed
If we go to SMU and
Visit your new museum
The world will see a new W.

Don't cry, W!
Cheer up, W!

Sweet Congressman

With budget negotiations about to begin in Washington--in all their absurdity--I'm reminded of "Big Spender" from the musical Sweet Charity.  This song's about Paul Ryan:

The minute he walked in the House
I could see he was a man on a mission
A real cost cutter
Good looking, soulful eyes
Say wouldn't you like to know what's going on in his mind?

So let me get right to the point
He would give tax breaks to all the richest folks
Hey Paul Ryan
Spend a little dough on us.

My Fair Neighbors

So this is a lighthearted reflection on the walks I take each morning in my neighborhood, where I pass people that I don't know very well.  We have a nodding acquaintance, you might say, and so I salute these fellow travelers of the dawn.  Sing to the tune of "On the Street Where You Live" from My Fair Lady:

I have often walked down this street before
And I see the same old neighbors as I saw before
There are dog walkers and the solo ones
Some who speak, some who nod, some who don't.
There are two nice guys, one is black one white
They are liberal Democrats and so I like them both
Others I can't tell if they're red or blue
But they're here on the street where I live.

And oh the curious feeling just to know so little at all
About these people I see now
Each day traverse the same path as the one I'm on.

People pass me by, they don't bother me
'Cause we're on the same old journey that we've always been
Let the time go by, I will care if I
Can't walk here on the street where I live.

Gay Sera, Sera (Opus #2)

Yet another historic week for gay rights in America, for which my theme song is "Que Sera, Sera" or "Gay Sera, Sera."  Here's a new version to commemorate this week's hearings at the Supreme Court:

When the Court heard the marriage cases
Supporters rallied outside the hall
Colorful banners, humorous costumes
Just like a festive ball.

Gay sera, sera
Whatever will be will be,
The future's equality
Gay sera, sera.
What will be will be.

Seems that the usual strait-laced judges
Will rule the usual restrictive way
Creepy Scalia, cautious Alito,
Coke-drinking Clarence, too.

Gay sera, sera
Whatever will be will be,
The future's equality
Gay sera, sera.
What will be will be.

No matter what these judges do
Gay marriage is here and it will stay
Guys wearing black robes can't do much about
Who rolls with whom in hay.

Gay sera, sera
Whatever will be will be,
The future's equality
Gay sera, sera.
What will be will be.

Rocky Mountain High

With North Carolina's political climate becoming more and more regressive, I find myself envying those who live in Colorado--where both gun safety and gay rights laws were passed this week.  Here's a song of celebration; sing to the tune of "Oklahoma":

COL-ORADO
Where the winds of change sweep through each day
Where the governor
Is not afraid
Of members of the NRA.

COL-ORADO
Where gay rights are a priority
Where the hate of yore
Is out the door
And the state respects humanity.

These laws should be laws of the land
Ones that all of the states should demand
So when we say
Yeow!  Aye-yip-aye-yo-ee-ay!
We're only saying
You're doing great, Colorado,
Colorado, hooray!

Papal Parody

Our papal plot has come to an end, and so we sing one final song to the tune of "Don't Cry For Me, Argentina," from Evita:

Give us a pope, Argentina
The truth is we need a new way
To preach our message
Without distraction
Of crimes and scandal
You know what I mean.

We had to let it happen
We had to change
Couldn't keep the same old Euro popes
Blessing us from the window
Praying out in the sun
So we chose Francis
Hoping for sure that he'd clean up the mess
He's modest, impressing us all
We never expected him to.

Give us a pope, Argentina
The truth is we need a new way
To preach our message
Without distraction
Of crimes and scandal
You know what I mean.

Go Cardinals!

Looks like we may have a new pope this time next week.  Until then, let's cheer on the process.  Here's a papal rendition of "Take Me Out to the Ball Game":

Take me out to the conclave
Take me out to the show
Find me a cardinal who's scandal-free
Restore my faith in the Holy See
Let me root, root, root for a new pope
For one who'll clean out the house
For we NEED MORE GOOD and less sin
In the VAT-I-CAN.

Medical Millionaires

Steven Brill's report in this week's Time magazine details the outrageous medical costs that are passed on to consumers.  Read it and weep.  In "Bitter Pill" he follows the money--to administrative salaries, expensive equipment, and old-fashioned price-gouging.  Here's a condensed version of the article, which you can sing to the tune of "How Much is that Doggie in the Window?":

How much is that gauze pad that I need now?
The one that the hospital bought
I think it's sold cheaper at a Walmart
But sadly I'm stuck here and caught.

The hospitals charge us what they feel like
For drugs and machines and lab work
Don't try to make sense of bills they send you
You'll end up by going berserk.

The doctors don't make the really big bucks
Consultants and drug makers do
Machines and equipment are real cash cows
Whose cash comes from me and from you.

So try not to ever, ever get sick
Don't land at the hospital's door
For if you are there for even one day
You'll end up by being quite poor.

The Sky is Falling

After the asteroid exploded last week over Russia, conversations about how to protect ourselves dominated the airwaves.  I'm not sure such efforts would work.  Sing to the tune of The Beatles' "If I Fell":

If the sky fell in on you
Would you know just what to do
Unlike the dinosaurs
Who stood still and were destroyed
By a major asteroid
That fell from the sky.

If we build a giant shield
Can we be sure
We'll protect ourselves
From rocks that glow and streak so bright.

If we study space
Can we predict a hit
Such as Henny Penny did
In warning all her friends
'Cause if not we'll all be toast.
If the sky falls in on us.

Papal Pomp

This pope--I mean post--is irreverent, but I can't help it.  I love it when a new pope is chosen, especially the smoke that announces the election results.  It's the Medieval version of "one if by land, two if by sea."  Sing to the tune of "Smoke Gets In Your Eyes":

Popes, they will come and go
Johns and Pauls you know
At the Vatican
Where they dwell in sin
Who this time will win?

The Cardinals will meet
Taking each a seat
Voting by and by
Even when a tie
Smoke blows from on high.

So the bishops come into the town
To find a new pope for us
If they don't, the smoke blows very black
We are without a pope.

But, if the smoke is white
And it's very bright
Then there's a decree
A new pope to be
Smokin' Holy See.