I wanna hold you in the Bible black predawn.....

She's writing, she's writing,
She's writing a novel.
She's writing, she's weaving,
Conceiving a plot.
It quickens, it thickens.
You can't put it down now.
It takes you, it shakes you,
It makes you lose your thought.
-- Cake (Open Book)

Oh, I wonder, wonder who, mmbadoo-ooh, WHO
Who wrote the Book Of Love?
--Moontones (?)

Got me a ticket for an airplane
Don't have time to take a fast train
Lonely days are gone, I'm-a coming home
My baby, she wrote me a letter
--Joe Cocker (The Letter)

Take a letter, Maria
Address it to my wife
--Tom Jones (Take a Letter, Maria)

Toss me a cigarette, I think there's one in my raincoat
We smoked the last one an hour ago
So I looked at the scenery, she read her magazine
And the moon rose over an open field
--Simon and Garfunkle (America)

Well it started long ago in the
Garden of Eden
When Adam said to Eve, Baby
You're for me
So come on, Baby, let's start today'
Come on, Baby, let's play
The game of Love, Love, Love, Love
Lu-lu-lu-lu-lu-Love ! ! !

Okay, that obviously refers to the Bible although it doesn't mention it.....

BUT I haven't thought of that song in years and I totally love it! From the very first line I found myself singing along.

Too fun! Thanks for playing.

I wonder, wonder who, who, ooh ooh...who
Who wrote the Book Of Love

Tell me, tell me, tell me
Oh, who wrote the Book Of Love
I've got to know the answer
Was it someone from above

Oh, I wonder, wonder who, mmm badoo...ooh, who
Who wrote the Book Of Love

I love you darlin'
Baby, you know I do
But I've got to see this Book of Love
Find out why it's true

Oh, I wonder, wonder who, mmm badoo...ooh, who
Who wrote the Book Of Love

Chapter One says to love her
You love her with all your heart
Chapter Two you tell her you're
Never, never, never, never, never gonna part
In Chapter Three remember the meaning of romance
In Chapter Four you break up
But you give her just one more chance

Oh, I wonder, wonder who, mmm badoo...ooh, who
Who wrote the Book Of Love

Baby, baby, baby
I love you, yes I do
Well, it says so in this Book Of Love
Ours is the one that's true

Oh, I wonder, wonder who, mmm badoo...ooh, who
Who wrote the Book Of Love . . . .

Thanks for the idea, Boom . . . i can hear these in my head as well !

Don't know much about history,
don't know much biology.
Don't know much about a science book,
don't know much about the French I took.
But I do know that I love you,
and I know that if you love me, too,
what a wonderful world this would be.

Don't know much about geography,
don't know much trigonometry.
Don't know much about algebra,
don't know what a slide rule is for.
But I did know that one and one is two,
and if this one could be with you,
what a wonderful world this would be.

Now I don't claim to be an 'A' student,
but I'm tryin' to be.
For maybe be being an 'A' student, baby,
I can win your love for me.

Don't know much about history,
don't know much biology.
Don't know much about a science book,
don't know much about the French I took.
But I do know that I love you,
and I know that if you love me, too,
what a wonderful world this would be.

But I do know that I love you,
and I know that if you love me, too,
what a wonderful world this would be.

Don't tell me you don't know the difference
Between a lover and a fighter
With my pen and my electric typewriter
Even in a perfect world where everyone was equal
I'd still own the film rights and be working on the sequel

And I'm giving you a longing look
Everyday, everyday, everyday I write the book-

E Costello

Yer welcome, Sentena.

Ohhh, Elvis... my favorite!

And you can tell everybody
This is your song
It may be quite simple but
Now that its done
I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind
That I put down in words
How wonderful life is, when you're in the world
--Elton John (Your Song)

Mother doesn't go out any more
Just sits at home and rolls her spastic eyes
But every weekend through the door
Come words of wisdom from the world outside

If you want to know about the bishop and the actress
If you want to know how to be a star
If you want to know about the stains on the mattress
You can read it in the sunday papers, sunday papers

Mother's wheelchair stays out in the hall
Why should she go out when the tv's on
Whatever moves beyond these walls
She'll know the facts when sunday comes along

If you want to know about the man gone bonkers
If you want to know how to play guitar
If you want to know about the other suckers
You can read it in the sunday papers, read it in the sunday papers

Sunday papers don't ask no questions
Sunday papers don't get no lies
Sunday papers don't raise objection
Sunday papers don't got no eyes

Brother's heading that way now I guess
He just read something made his face turn blue
Well I got nothing against the press
They wouldn't print it if it wasn't true

If you want to know about the gay politician
If you want to know how to drive your car
If you want to know about the new sex position
You can read it in the sunday papers, read it in the sunday papers

Sunday papers don't ask no questions
Sunday papers don't get no lies
Sunday papers don't raise objection
Sunday papers don't got no eyes

Sunday papers don't ask no questions
Sunday papers don't get no lies
Sunday papers don't raise objection
Sunday papers don't got no eyes

Read all about it, sunday papers

(Oops, were we supposed to cite these? i don't recall who did Game of Love--but Who Wrote the Book of Love was originally done by the Monotones. This one is by Joe Jackson.)

If you could read my mind love
What a tale my thoughts could tell
Just like an old time movie
'bout a ghost from a wishin' well
In a castle dark or a fortress strong
With chains upon my feet
You know that ghost is me
And I will never be set free
As long as I'm a ghost that you can't see
If I could read your mind love
What a tale your thoughts could tell
Just like a paperback novel
The kind that drugstores sell
When you reach the part where the heartaches come
The hero would be me
But heroes often fail
And you won't read that book again
Because the ending's just too hard to take


always one of my favourites

I read the news today oh boy
About a lucky man who made the grade
And though the news was rather sad
Well I just had to laugh
I saw the photograph.
--Beatles (A Day In The Life)

I write the songs that make the whole world sing
--Barry Manilow (I write the songs)

Hi eBeth! Do you remember who sang that song?

Oh, Joe Jackson, another favorite!

Gordon Lightfoot!

Oh that's right. Thank you!

So I took me a pen and a paper
And I made up my own little sign
It said "Thank you Lord for thinking about me
I'm alive and doing fine"
--? (Signs)

Poor James Dean Monroe
Hands out flowers at the Stop And Go
Looks for money but all he gets is fear
When the wind blows down his coat
This he scribbles on a perfumed note
If I'm not here, then you're not here
--Sheryl Crow (Miscreation)

I read your book
And I find it strange
That I know that girl and I know her world
A little too well
--Sheryl Crow (Three Days in Rome)

In ancient rome there was a poem
About a dog who had two bones
He picked at one he licked the other
He went in circles till he dropped dead
--Devo (Freedom of Choice)

Did you write the Book of Love
And do you have faith in God above
If the Bible tells me so
--Don McLean (American Pie)

Paperback Writer

Paperback writer, paperback writer.
Dear Sir or Madam will you read my book,
It took me years to write will you take a look,
Based on a novel by a man named Lear,
And I need a job,
So I want to be a paperback writer,
Paperback writer.
It's a dirty story of a dirty man,
And his clinging wife doesn't understand.
His son is working for the Daily Mail,
It's a steady job,
But he wants to be a paperback writer,
Paperback writer.
It's a thousand pages give or take a few,
I'll be writing more in a week or two,
I can make it longer if you like the style,
I can change it round,
And I want to be a paperback writer,
Paperback writer.
If you really like it you can have the rights,
It could make a million for you overnight,
If you must return it you can send it here,
But I need a break,
And I want to be a paperback writer,
Paperback writer.

-

The Dangling Conversation

It's a still life watercolor of a now late afternoon
as the sun shines through the curtain lace and shadows wash the room.
And we sit and drink our coffee, couched in our indifference
like shells upon the shore, you can hear the ocean roar.
In the dangling conversation and the superficial sighs: the borders of our lives.

And you read your Emily Dickinson and I my Robert Frost
and we note our place with bookmarkers that measure what we've lost.
Like a poem poorly written, we are verses out of rhythm,
couplets out of rhyme in syncopated time.
And the dangling conversation and the superficial sighs are the borders of our lives.

Yes, we speak of things that matter with words that must be said:
"Can analysis be worthwhile? Is the theater really dead?"
And how the room is softly faded and I only kiss your shadow,
I cannot feel your hand, you're a stranger now unto me
lost in the dangling conversation and the superficial sighs, in the borders of our lives.

Cole Porter

At words poetic, I'm so pathetic
That I always have found it best,
Instead of getting 'em off my chest,
To let 'em rest unexpressed,
I hate parading my serenading
As I'll probably miss a bar,
But if this ditty is not so pretty
At least it'll tell you
How great you are.

You're the top!
You're the Coliseum.
You're the top!
You're the Louver Museum.
You're a melody from a symphony by Strauss
You're a Bendel bonnet,
A Shakespeare's sonnet,
You're Mickey Mouse.
You're the Nile,
You're the Tower of Pisa,
You're the smile on the Mona Lisa
I'm a worthless check, a total wreck, a flop,
But if, baby, I'm the bottom you're the top!

Your words poetic are not pathetic.
On the other hand, babe, you shine,
And I can feel after every line
A thrill divine
Down my spine.
Now gifted humans like Vincent Youmans
Might think that your song is bad,
But I got a notion
I'll second the motion
And this is what I'm going to add;

You're the top!
You're Mahatma Gandhi.
You're the top!
You're Napoleon Brandy.
You're the purple light
Of a summer night in Spain,
You're the National Gallery
You're Garbo's salary,
You're cellophane.
You're sublime,
You're turkey dinner,
You're the time, the time of a Derby winner
I'm a toy balloon that's fated soon to pop
But if, baby, I'm the bottom,
You're the top!

You're the top!
You're an arrow collar
You're the top!
You're a Coolidge dollar,
You're the nimble tread
Of the feet of Fred Astaire,
You're an O'Neill drama,

You're Whistler's mama!

You're camembert.

You're a rose,
You're Inferno's Dante,

You're the nose
On the great Durante.
I'm just in a way,
As the French would say, "de trop".
But if, baby, I'm the bottom,
You're the top!

You're the top!
You're a dance in Bali.
You're the top!
You're a hot tamale.
You're an angel, you,
Simply too, too, too diveen,
You're a Boticcelli,
You're Keats,
You're Shelly!

You're Ovaltine!
You're a boom,
You're the dam at Boulder,
You're the moon,
Over Mae West's shoulder,
I'm the nominee of the G.O.P.

Or GOP!

But if, baby, I'm the bottom,
You're the top!

You're the top!
You're a Waldorf salad.
You're the top!
You're a Berlin ballad.
You're the boats that glide
On the sleepy Zuider Zee,
You're an old Dutch master,

You're Lady Astor,
You're broccoli!
You're romance,
You're the steppes of Russia,
You're the pants, on a Roxy usher,
I'm a broken doll, a fol-de-rol, a blop,

But if, baby, I'm the bottom,
You're the top!