Favourite Novelty Songs.

"Sadie, the Cleaning Lady"-John Farnham

Sadie, the cleaning lady
With trusty scrubbing brush and pail of water
Worked her fingers to the bone, for the life she had at home
Providing at the same time for her daughter

Ahh Sadie, the cleaning lady
Her aching knees not getting any younger
Well her red detergent hands, have for years not held a man's
And time would find her heart expired of hunger

Scrub your floors, do your chores, dear old Sadie
Looks as though you'll always be a cleaning lady
Can't afford to get bored dear old Sadie
Looks as though you'll always be a cleaning lady

Ahh Sadie, the cleaning la-ady
Her female mind would find a way of trapping
Though as gentle as a lamb, Sam the elevator man
So she could spend the night by TV, napping

Ahh Sadie, the cleaning lady
Her aching knees not getting any younger
Well her red detergent hands, have for years not held a man's
And time would find her heart expired of hunger

Ahh, scrub your floors, do your chores, dear old Sadie
Looks as though you'll always be a cleaning lady
Can't afford to get bored dear old Sadie
Looks as though you'll always be a cleaning lady

Ahh Sadie, the cleaning lady
Her Sam was what she got, hook, line and sinker
To her sorrow and dismay, she's still working to this day
Her Sam turned out to be a nervous figure

Ahh, scrub your floors, do your chores, dear old Sadie
Looks as though you'll always be a cleaning lady
Can't afford to get bored dear old Sadie



Almost seems amazing that this one launched one of Australia's most successful recording careers.

A Pub With No Beer

By SLIM DUSTY


Oh it's-a lonesome away from your kindred and all
By the campfire at night we'll hear the wild dingoes call
But there's-a nothing so lonesome, morbid or drear
Than to stand in the bar of a pub with no beer

Now the publican's anxious for the quota to come
And there's a far away look on the face of the bum
The maids gone all cranky and the cook's acting queer
Oh what a terrible place is a pub with no beer

Then the stockman rides up with his dry dusty throat
He breasts up to the bar and pulls a wad from his coat
But the smile on his face quickly turns to a sneer
As the barman says sadly the pub's got no beer

Then the swaggie comes in smothered in dust and flies
He throws down his roll and rubs the sweat from his eyes
But when he is told, he says what's this I hear
I've trudged fifty flamin' miles to a pub with no beer

Now there's a dog on the v'randa for his master he waits
But the boss is inside drinking wine with his mates
He hurries for cover and he cringes in fear
It's no place for a dog 'round a pub with no beer

And old Billy the blacksmith, the first time in his life
Why he's gone home cold sober to his darling wife
He walks in the kitchen, she says you're early Bill, dear
But then he breaks down and tells her the pubs got no beer

Oh it's hard to believe that there's customers still
But the money's still tinkling in the old ancient till
The wine buffs are happy and I know there sincere
When they say they don't care if the pub's got no beer

So it's-a lonesome away from your kindred and all
By the campfire at night we'll hear the wild dingoes call
But there's-a nothing so lonesome, morbid or drear
Than to stand in the bar of that pub with-a no beer



Country legend Slim Dusty passed away today aged 76. He earned more Gold and Platinum records than any other Australian artist. He will recieve a State funeral.

Hey, Wilso. The following song is taken from the album, "Stan Freberg Presents The United States of America":

"Take An Indian To Lunch"

Take an Indian to lunch this week
Show him we're a regular bunch this week
Show him we're as liberal as can be
Let him know he's almost as good as we
Make a feathered friend feel fed this week
Overlook the fact he's red this week
Let him share our Quaker Oats
'Cause he's useful when he votes
Take an Indian to lunch
Two, four, six, eight, who do we tolerate
Indians, Indians, rah; rah; rah
Take an Indian to lunch this week
Let him sit right down and munch this week
Let's give in and all do the brotherhood bit
Just make sure we don't make a habit of it
Take an Indian to dine this week
Show him we don't draw the line this week
We know everyone can't be
As American as we
After all, we came over on the Mayflower
Take an Indian
Not a wooden Indian
But a real, live Indian
To lunch!

May the Bird of Paradise Fly Up Your Nose
BumbleBeeBoogie's favorite novelty song:

MAY THE BIRD OF PARADISE FLY UP YOUR NOSE
By Neal Merritt

One fine day as I was walkin' down the street
Met a beggar man with rags upon his feet
Took a penny from my pocket,
In his tin cup I did drop it
And I heard him say as I made my retreat.

CHORUS:

May the bird of paradise fly up your nose
May an elephant caress you with his toes
May your wife be plagued with runners in her hose
May the bird of paradise fly up your nose.

I was way behind one day to catch a train
Taxi driver, "said we'll make it just the same"
But a speed cop made it with us
And as he wrote out the ticket
I stood by politely waitin' for my change.

CHORUS

Well, my laundry man is really on his toes
Found a hundred dollar bill among my clothes
When he called me, I came runnin'
Gave him back his dime for phonin'
And I heard him sayin' as I turned to go.

CHORUS

I liked Springsteen's "Dancing in the Dark" done in the style of Pat Boone "Love Letters in the Sand"

Wicked man

In memory of the late, great Johnny Cash:

A Boy Named Sue

Ah Wilso, you'd love the Dr. Demento show--i listen to it every Sunday morning. One of my personal favorites from that show, by Camille West:

"The Man Who Couldn't Cry"
Written by Loudon Wainwright III
Performed by Johnny Cash

There once was a man who just couldn't cry
He hadn't cried for years and for years
Napalmed babies and the movie love story
For instance could not produce tears
As a child he had cried as all children will
Then at some point his tear ducts ran dry
He grew to be a man, the feces hit the fan
Things got bad, but he couldn't cry

His dog was run over, his wife up and left him
And after that he got sacked from his job
Lost his arm in the war, was laughed at by a whore
Ah, but sill not a sniffle or sob

His novel was refused, his movie was panned
And his big Broadway show was a flop

He got sent off to jail; you guessed it, no bail
Oh, but still not a dribble or drop

In jail he was beaten, bullied and buggered
And made to make license plates
Water and bread was all he was fed
But not once did a tear stain his face

Doctors were called in, scientists, too
Theologians were last and practically least

They all agreed sure enough; this was sure no cream puff
But in fact an insensitive beast

He was removed from jail and placed in a place
For the insensitive and the insane
He played lots of chess and made lots of friends
And he wept every time it would rain

Once it rained forty days and it rained forty nights
And he cried and he cried and he cried and he cried

On the forty-first day, he passed away
He just dehydrated and died

Well, he went up to heaven, located his dog
Not only that, but he rejoined his arm
Down below, all the critics, they loot it all back
Cancer robbed the whore of her charm

His ex-wife died of stretch marks, his ex-employer went broke
The theologians were finally found out

Right down to the ground, that old jail house burned down
The earth suffered perpetual drought

I Lobster And Never Flounder
Written by: Braddock & Braddock

I was a cook and she was a waitress,
Down at the Salty Dog Seafood Cafe;
And somewhere 'tween the clam juice and the seaweed salad,
Some little shrimp just lured her away.

Oh, I lobster and never flounder.
He wrapped his line around her,
And they drove off in his carp.
Oh, I lobster and never flounder.
I octopus his face in, he'll only break her heart.

I said just squid and leave me for that piano tuna,
If you want to trout something new;
She was the bass I ever had, now my life has no porpoise,
Oh, my cod, I love her, yes, I do.

Oh, I lobster and never flounder.
He wrapped his line around her,
And they drove off in his carp.
Oh, I lobster and never flounder.
I octopus his face in, he'll only break her heart.

[Spoken] Frankly scallop, I don't give a clam.

I presented these lyrics in an earlier thread I started, about Nervous Norvis and the infamous song poem business. Not too many folks looked in on that one, so, I decided to put APE CALL in this thread for those who missed it. Nervous Norvis wrote and sang it; Red Blanchard supplied the actual ape calls that puncuate it throughout:

APE CALL

Back in history before time began
All the real cool cats had a solid plan
When they dug a nervous chick they all to a man went
Ah-ee-ah-a-a
Ape call doodliaba
Ape call doodliaba
Ape call doodliabla
You wanna be cool man, go ape

Young mighty joe was swinging through the trees
Was the king of everything that roosted in the leaves
But when he saw a girl ape swaying in the breeze he went
Ah-ee-ah-a-a
Ape call....
Ape call....
Ape call....
You like to be hip boy go ape

Big dinosaur was a long tall lizard
He'd drift through the jungle like a slow blizzard
But when he got a double take at a lady lizard he went
Ah-ee-ah-a-a
If you wanna be sharp go ape

A pteradactyl was a flying fool, just a -
(I thought I'd break in to tell you what a pteradactyl was. Well it was sort of a stork looking bat with real sharp teeth that cruised around looking for - Say! We haven't changed a bit have we cats?)
Pteradactyl was a flying fool
Just a breeze flapping daddy of the old school
But a mama dactyl could make him drool He went
Ah-ee-ah-a-a
Don't wanna be a square go ape

Now old pal tiger was the boss of the nile
Just a sport model cat with a solid style
He was old king cool til a girl tiger smiled
Ah-ee-ah-a-a
You wanna be zorch go ape

Adam was the first boy in the land
A big mellow-roonie daddy with an iron hand
But when little evie said hi man he went
Ah-ee-ah-a-a
Ape call doodliaba
Ape call doodliaba
Ape call doodliaba
You don't wanna be a qube rube go ape

So remember to ape call today - yeah
Ah-ee-ah-a-a

Edgar
Ah-ee-ah-a-a
Ah-ee-ah-a-a
Ah-ee-ah-a-a
Ah-ee-ah-a-a
Ah-ee-ah-a-a
Ah-ee-ah-a-a
Ah-ee-ah-a-a

One for each day of the week

---BumbleBeeBoogie

30,000 Pounds of Bananas
by Harry Chapin
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Description: Originally found on album Verities & Balderdash, 1974. Also found on Greatest Stories Live, 1975; Anthology of Harry Chapin, 1985; and the Bottom Line Encore Series, 1998; and Story of a Life, 1999.


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It was just after dark when the truck started down
the hill that leads into Scranton Pennsylvania.
Carrying thirty thousand pounds of bananas.
Carrying thirty thousand pounds (hit it Big John) of bananas.

He was a young driver,
just out on his second job.
And he was carrying the next day's pasty fruits
for everyone in that coal-scarred city
where children play without despair
in backyard slag-piles and folks manage to eat each day
about thirty thousand pounds of bananas.
Yes, just about thirty thousand pounds (scream it again, John) .

He passed a sign that he should have seen,
saying "shift to low gear, a fifty dollar fine my friend."
He was thinking perhaps about the warm-breathed woman
who was waiting at the journey's end.
He started down the two mile drop,
the curving road that wound from the top of the hill.
He was pushing on through the shortening miles that ran down to the depot.
Just a few more miles to go,
then he'd go home and have her ease his long, cramped day away.
and the smell of thirty thousand pounds of bananas.
Yes the smell of thirty thousand pounds of bananas.

He was picking speed as the city spread its twinkling lights below him.
But he paid no heed as the shivering thoughts of the nights
delights went through him.
His foot nudged the brakes to slow him down.
But the pedal floored easy without a sound.
He said "Christ!"
It was funny how he had named the only man who could save him now.
He was trapped inside a dead-end hellslide,
riding on his fear-hunched back
was every one of those yellow green
I'm telling you thirty thousand pounds of bananas.
Yes, there were thirty thousand pounds of bananas.

He barely made the sweeping curve that led into the steepest grade.
And he missed the thankful passing bus at ninety miles an hour.
And he said "God, make it a dream!"
as he rode his last ride down.
And he said "God, make it a dream!"
as he rode his last ride down.
And he sideswiped nineteen neat parked cars,
clipped off thirteen telephone poles,
hit two houses, bruised eight trees,
and Blue-Crossed seven people.
it was then he lost his head,
not to mention an arm or two before he stopped.
And he slid for four hundred yards
along the hill that leads into Scranton, Pennsylvania.
All those thirty thousand pounds of bananas.

You know the man who told me about it on the bus,
as it went up the hill out of Scranton, Pennsylvania,
he shrugged his shoulders, he shook his head,
and he said (and this is exactly what he said)
"Boy that sure must've been something.
Just imagine thirty thousand pounds of bananas.
Yes, there were thirty thousand pounds of mashed bananas.
Of bananas. Just bananas. Thirty thousand pounds.
of Bananas. not no driver now. Just bananas!"

From Greatest Stories Live: Ending #1

Yes, we have no bananas,
We have no bananas today
(Spoken: And if that wasn't enough)
Yes, we have no bananas,
Bananas in Scranton, P A

From Greatest Stories Live: Ending #2:

A woman walks into her room where her child lies sleeping,
and when she sees his eyes are closed,
she sits there, silently weeping,
and though she lives in Scranton, Pennsylvania
She never ever eats ... Bananas
Not one of thirty thousand pounds .... of bananas

From 1947 into the early 50s, it was virtually impossible to say the words "Open the door" without the follow-up: "Richard." A dumb little song implanted itself in our heads forevermore. It had many variations from different artists. Here is the bare bone lyric.

OPEN THE DOOR RICHARD

Open the door Richard
Open the door Richard
Open the door Richard
Richard why don't you open the door

(repeat first four lines)

I'm standing out here digging in my hip pocket
And I'm standing here scratching in my pants pocket
And I'm standing here groping in my coat pocket
And I just can't find that key

(repeat first four lines)

Wilso - I have that Harry Chapin song posted in my cube at work. It's not a novelty song to us. It's about work.

especially this :

He barely made the sweeping curve that led into the steepest grade.
And he missed the thankful passing bus at ninety miles an hour.
And he said "God, make it a dream!"
as he rode his last ride down.
And he said "God, make it a dream!"
as he rode his last ride down.
And he sideswiped nineteen neat parked cars,
clipped off thirteen telephone poles,
hit two houses, bruised eight trees,
and Blue-Crossed seven people.
it was then he lost his head,
not to mention an arm or two before he stopped.
And he slid for four hundred yards
along the hill that leads into Scranton, Pennsylvania.

You Ain't Getting **** For Christmas
Smelly Water with The Alan Pinchloaf Singers (Red Peters)
(Grenga, Stevens, Johnson)

They say Christmas is a time for giving - at least that's what the good book says, and at our house every Christmas Eve my son and daughter and their families drive down from the big city for an old fashioned family holiday. Ma dresses the house up like a Christmas card, you can hear her in the kitchen singing while she's baking cookies for the children. Ma spends hours wrapping the presents she's been buying since last August and hangs all the stockings over the fireplace. The morning of, I cut me down the prettiest darn Christmas tree you ever saw in your life. Eh, this year we really outdid ourselves. You know, Ma and I are getting on in our years so we decided to give the kids tax-free cash gifts of $10,000 apiece.

(barking)

I reckon it was around noon, I heard the dogs barking (yells "Come Rags!, Come Guzzler!") and there was Jim the mailman in his old santa cap, coming up the walk teasing the dogs, holding a package. Well he handed it over to me and says "Pappy, looks like you got an overnite package from your daughter". I went back in the kitchen and Ma tore it open. To our horror we unwrapped a fruitcake with a note that read...

"Aloha Ma & Dad, at the last minute we got a cheap fare on the internet and went to Hawaii. Hold onto our gifts until after the first of the year. Love, Princess."

Well, Ma's heart was broken and I felt a lump in my throat as I thought to myself...

You Ain't Getting **** For Christmas
You can shove that fruitcake up your ass
well you ain't getting ****
no you ain't getting dick
you ain't getting **** for Christmas

You know, Ma hasn't had a drink in 20 years and I've been off the sauce a while myself and heck, if there was ever an excuse to start drinking again. (sfx-doorbell) Who in tarnation could that be, Junior and his family? It was some delivery fella standing there holding what looked like a fruitcake tin with a card attached.

"Pop, the company's condo is free this week and you know how much Pumpkin and I love Hilton Head. Please forward our gifts to this address."

(sfx-cork and pouring sound)

Hey Ma, save some for me. Well, Ma took a coniption things turned ugly. She started breaking things and hurled the turkey and those two fruitcakes right through the front window, the whole time she was yelling...

You Ain't Getting **** For Christmas
You can shove that fruitcake up your ass
well you ain't getting ****
no you ain't getting dick
you ain't getting **** for Christmas

(repeat, fade)

There was a guy from PEI they used to call Podato
He met this young Leamington Ontario Tomato
But he had eyes for other girls & she was a little mushy
So they said well let's get wed there's no sense bein fussy
Chorus:
Baked sized french fries-how they love Tomatoes
So dress em up with Heinz Ketchup-(Ketchup luvs Potatoes)x2
Well he went down to Windsor town to buy a ring on Monday
Saturday they said OK we'll cut the cake on Sunday
But Sunday came and what a shame-They had no one to fetch it
Without a cake they just sat and ate-Potato chips and ketchup
Bake sized french fries how they love Tomatoes
So dress em up with Heinz Ketchup- (Ketchup luvs Potatoes)X2
And so this guy from Pei they used to call Podato
Got two boys and a little girl-Two spuds & one Tomato
They romp and run around Leamington and boy when they get hungry
The bottle drips all over the chips way down in the ketchup country.

Stompin Tom

The Sick Note
Pat Cooksey

Dear Sir, I write this note to you to tell you of me plight
And at the time of writing I am not a pretty sight
Me body is all black and blue, me face a deathly gray
And I write this note to say why Paddy's not at work today

While working on the fourteenth floor some bricks I had to clear
Now to throw them down from such a height it was not a good idea
The foreman wasn't very pleased, he bein' an awkward sod
He said I'd have to cart them down the ladders in me hod

Now clearing all these bricks by hand it was so very slow
So I hoisted up a barrel and secured the rope below
But in me haste to do the job I was too blind to see
That a barrel full of building bricks was heavier than me

So when I untied the rope the barrel fell like lead
And clinging tightly to the rope I started up instead
Well, I shot up like a rocket 'til to my dismay I found
That halfway up I met the bloody barrel coming down

Well, the barrel broke me shoulder as to the ground it sped
And when I reached the top I banged the pulley with me head
While I clung on tight all numb with shock from this almighty blow
And the barrel spilled out half the bricks fourteen floors below

Now, when these bricks had fallen from the barrel to the floor
I then outweighed the barrel and so started down once more
Still clinging tightly to the rope I sped towards the ground
And I landed on the broken bricks that were all scattered round

Well, I laid there groaning on the ground I thought I'd passed the worst
When the barrel hit the pulley wheel and then the bottom burst
Well, a shower of bricks rained down on me, I hadn't got a hope
As I lay there moaning on the ground, I let go the bloody rope

The barrel then being heavier it started down once more
And landed right across me as I lay upon the floor
Well it broke three ribs and my left arm and I can only say
That I hope you'll understand why Paddy's not at work today

Ballad Of A Dog Named Stains
(Stevens/Johnson/Lawry/Grenga)
Red Peters with Smelly Water
featuring The Dickner Brothers (Iben, Uben & Heben)

Storyteller (spoken word)
VERSE ONE

I was sittin' out on the porch the other night
reminiscing about the good ole days
and how my grandson Bobby and I would finish up chores
and mosey on into town.
Heck, we were poor back then
but we loved window shopping.
And I recall how excited Bobby'd get
'specially when we stopped by the pet shop.
you see, there was this one little puppy
that he really took a hankerin' to
and he'd look up at me and say
"Grandpa... if that was my dog, I'd name him Stains,
cuz of that splash of white on his coat."
Well, right then and there, I made a up my mind,
that I'd get that little critter for Bobby
so that following mornin', I cashed in a savings bond and brought the little mutt home.
Darnit, I couldn't tell you who was happiest that day,
me, Bobby or that there dog.
Them two were inseparable ....
why, you'da need a crowbar to separate those two.
And to this day, I can still hear the boy hollerin' after that dog...
still hear him calling... calling out his name...

CHORUS (sung)
Come Stains! Come Stains!
I still can Hear him calling...Come Stains!

Storyteller
VERSE TWO

you know, we don't like talkin' about it much
but it was that following winter
that little Bobby took ill.
and they don't allow dogs at the hospital
so back home you'd find Stains on Bobby's bed.
I'll never forget the day Doc called
and gave us the bad news about Bobby
out of the corner of my eye
I saw Stains lift his sad little dogface from Bobby's pillow.
Somehow he knew that Bobby was gone
and I swear to the good lord
that Stains was hearing Bobby calling out to him one more time from heaven
he just sorta smiled, crossed his paws like he was prayin'
put his head on the pillow..........and passed away.

CHORUS
Come Stains! Come Stains!
I still can hear him calling, Come Stains!
Come Stains! Come Stains!
I still can hear him calling, Come Stains!

(boy and dog united in Heaven) "Come Stains! Come Stains!...Stains!...Woof, woof..."