WA2K Radio is now on the air

My word, listeners, Here is Bob between two very witty women.

What a delightful anecdote about the hawk, Bob. Isn't it interesting that your ex should call and tell you all about it? <smile> Oh my, red tailed birds with broken wings.

I especially like Bob's monologue. Much, much better than any tonight show host.

Raggedy, thank you so much for once again keeping us updated on the state of the arts, and their performing counterparts. :wink:

Yamamoto reminds me that someone avowed he did NOT say:

"I'm afraid that we've awakened a sleeping giant and filled him with a terrible resolve." What do you all think?

I took my students to see Maya Angelou; they were quite disappointed when she told the eager beavers that she did NOT do autographs.

Poor Anthony Perkins. He succumbed to AIDS as did Miss Kitty on Gunsmoke.

Diane, that is the funniest driver's test that I have ever read. Hilarious. No wonder teen agers in SUV's have a different brain structure.

Well, listeners. I will be back later with a Maya Missive.

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings


The free bird leaps
on the back of the win
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and is tune is heard
on the distant hillfor the caged bird
sings of freedom

The free bird thinks of another breeze
an the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.

Maya Angelou

She also did a poem that she read at Bill Clinton's inauguration called The Pulse of Morning, but The Cage Bird was her first introduction to the world.

And now, listeners, a song to go with Diane's party:



I went to a garden party to reminisce with my old friends
A chance to share old memories and play our songs again
When I got to the garden party, they all knew my name
No one recognized me, I didn't look the same

[chorus]
But it's all right now, I learned my lesson well.
You see, ya can't please everyone, so ya got to please yourself

People came from miles around, everyone was there
Yoko brought her walrus, there was magic in the air
'n' over in the corner, much to my surprise
Mr. Hughes hid in Dylan's shoes wearing his disguise

[chorus]

lott-in-dah-dah-dah, lot-in-dah-dah-dah

Played them all the old songs, thought that's why they came
No one heard the music, we didn't look the same
I said hello to "Mary Lou", she belongs to me
When I sang a song about a honky-tonk, it was time to leave

[chorus]

lot-dah-dah-dah (lot-dah-dah-dah)
lot-in-dah-dah-dah

Someone opened up a closet door and out stepped Johnny B. Goode
Playing guitar like a-ringin' a bell and lookin' like he should
If you gotta play at garden parties, I wish you a lotta luck
But if memories were all I sang, I rather drive a truck

[chorus]

lot-dah-dah-dah (lot-dah-dah-dah)
lot-in-dah-dah-dah

'n' it's all right now, learned my lesson well
You see, ya can't please everyone, so you got to please yourself.

Letty my love you're too much. Now as you may realize the tourists should be arriving soon. I know some Swedes are already here. You may want to print this out as a guide for them. Friends and relatives from out of town are also included--no extra charge.



Bawstin

We really believe there is a letter R. We just pronounce it AHHHH. As opposed to New Yawkers who pronounce it ORRR

For those of you who have never been to "Bawstin", this is a good guideline. I hope you will consider coming to "Beantown" in the near future. For those who call New England home, this is just plain great!

Information on Boston and the surrounding area:

There's no school on School Street, no court on Court Street, no dock on Dock Square, no water on Water Street.

Back Bay streets are in alphabetical "oddah": Arlington, Berkeley, Clarendon, Dartmouth, etc.

So are South Boston streets: A, B, C, D, etc.

If the streets are named after trees (e.g. Walnut, Chestnut, Cedar), you're on Beacon Hill.

If they're named after poets, you're in Wellesley. Which is not part of Boston.

Massachusetts Ave ! ! is Mass Ave; Commonwealth Ave is Comm Ave; South Boston is Southie. The South End is the South End. East Boston is Eastie. The North End is east of the former West End. The West End and Scollay Square are no more; a guy named Rappaport got rid of them one night. Roxbury is The Berry, Jamaica Plain is J.P.

Definitions:

Frappes have ice cream, milkshakes don't.

If it is fizzy and flavored, it's tonic.
Soda is CLUB SODA. "Pop" is Dad. When we want Tonic WATER, we will ask for Tonic WATER. The smallest beer is a pint.

Scrod is whatever they tell you it is, usually the fish of the day. If you paid more than $6/pound, you got scrod.

It's not a water fountain; it's a bubblah.

It's not a trashcan; it's a barrel.

It's not a Spucky, it's a Sub!

It's not a shopping cart; it's a carriage.

It's not a purse; it's a pock-a-book.

It's not a package store: it's a packie

They're not franks; they're haht dahgs.
Not 100% correct here. Ever hear of Fenway Franks?

Police don't drive patrol units or black and whites they drive a "crooza".

If you take the bus, your on the "looza crooza".

It's not a rubber band, it's an elastic.

It's not a traffic circle, it's a rotary.

"Going to the islands" means Martha's Vineyard & Nantucket. And "Going to the Cape" means Cape Cod!

If something's good, it's "pissa". If something's really good, it's "wicked pissa".

The Pat's = The Patriots
The Sox = The Red Sox
The C's = The Celtics
The B's = The Bruins

Things not to do:

Don't pahk your cah in Hahvid Yahd ... they'll tow it to Meffa (Medford) or
Slumaville (Somerville).

Don't sleep in the Common. (Boston Common)

Don't wear Orange in Southie on St. Patrick's Day.

Things you should know:

There are two State Houses, two City Halls, two courthouses, two Hancock buildings (one old, one new for each).

The colored lights on top the old
Hancock tell the weatha':

"Solid blue, clear view...."
"Flashing blue, clouds due...."
"Solid red, rain ahead...."
"Flashing red, snow instead...." - (except in summer; flashing red means the Red Sox game was rained out)

Route 128 is also I-95 south. It's also I-93 north.

The underground train is not a subway. It's the "T", and it doesn't run all night (fah chrysakes, this ain't Noo Yawk).

Order the "cold tea" in China Town after 2:00 am you'll get a kettle full of beer!

Bostonians... think that it's their God-given right to cut off someone in traffic.

Bostonians...think that there are only 25 letters in the alphabet (no R's).

Bostonians...think that three straight days of 90+ temperatures is a heat wave.

Bostonians...refer to six inches of snow as a "dusting."

Bostonians...always "bang a left" as soon as the light turns green, and
oncoming traffic always expects it.

Bostonians...say everything in town is "a five-minute walk." (pronounced "wok")

Bostonians...believe that using your turn signal is a sign of weakness.

Bostonians...think that 63-degree ocean water is warm.



Send this one to your friends who don't live in Boston!!

Bostonians...think Rhode Island accents are annoying.

How to say these Massachusetts city names correctly:

Worcester: Wuhsta (or Wistah)
Gloucester: Glaw -sta
Leicester: Lesta
Woburn: Wooban
Dedham: Dedim (like denim)
Revere: Re-vee-ah
Quincy: Quinzee
Peabody: Pea-bud'-dee
Waltham: Wahlt-ham
Chatham: Chahttum
Leominister: Lemon-stir
Weymouth: Way-myth
Plymouth: Plim-myth

Bob, that is the most fantastic phonetic Bahston lexicon that I have ever read. Hey, listeners, the print outs will be atop the table in our entry hall.

And speaking of lexicons R us, East Virginians drop their r's as well. My oldest sis still says cawner, and I was a big girl before I knew that wardrobe had and r in it. East Virginians still pronounce "out" oat. Still get ribbed about this sentence:

There's a mouse in the house get him out:

Translated: there's a mows in the hos get him oat.

In Florida, audience, there are as many accents as there are people, so I won't go into that. East Virginians also say toMA to not to MAY to, and I remember my dad saying cocola.

Both my sisters tell me that they would run to Mama saying, "Billy is making a moue at me." (Francis might appreciate that)

Which leads us into the appropriate song:


(verse)
Things have come to a pretty pass,
Our romance is growing flat,
For you like this and the other
While I go for this and that.
Goodness knows what the end will be;
Oh, I don't know where I'm at...
It looks as if we two will never be one,
Something must be done.

(refrain)
You say eether and I say eyether,
You say neether and I say nyther;
Eether, eyether, neether, nyther,
Let's call the whole thing off!
You like potato and I like potahto,
You like tomato and I like tomahto;
Potato, potahto, tomato, tomahto!
Let's call the whole thing off!
But oh! If we call the whole thing off,
Then we must part.
And oh! If we ever part,
Then that might break my heart!
So, if you like pajamas and I like pajahmas,
I'll wear pajamas and give up pajahmas.
For we know we need each other,
So we better call the calling off off.
Let's call the whole thing off!






You say laughter and I say lawfter,
You say after and I say awfter;
Laughter, lawfter, after, awfter,
Let's call the whole thing off!
You like vanilla and I like vanella,
You, sa's'parilla and I sa's'parella;
Vanilla, vanella, Choc'late, strawb'ry!
Let's call the whole thing off!
But oh! If we call the whole thing off,
Then we must part.
And oh! If we ever part,
Then that might break my heart!
So, if you go for oysters and I go for ersters
I'll order oysters and cancel the ersters.
For we know we need each other,
So we better call the calling off off!
Let's call the whole thing off!

Hey, listeners, how do YOU say it?

I am happy to be able to make this announcement:



Thanks to the work of the moderators, our John of Virginia will once again work his way through the maze and arrive safely at A2K, and hopefully back to our station. He does have a request, however. He is looking for the song in which there is a phrase:

A wandering minstrel, I a lad of rags and patches. Should any of our expert listeners or researchers be able to locate that song, all of us here will be delighted, for him and for us. Now we must entice Britain, Germany, Norway, and France back to their rightful place among us.

You, too, Boston.

good evening WA2K, djjd62 here with you for the next few minutes, a great man once said, "people, each of them, going different places, each of them, thinking different things, people", okay it wasn't a great man it was b movie director ed wood, in his classic film about transvestism glen or glenda, but enough of this frivolity, tonights show is all about people, you probaly know some yourself

Concrete Blonde
Joey

Joey, baby - don't get crazy
Detours. Fences... I get defensive
I know you've heard it all before -
so I don't say it anymore
I just stand by and let you
fight your secret war.
And though I used to wonder why -
I used to cry till I was dry.
Still sometimes I get a strange pain
inside
Oh, Joey, if you're hurting so am I.

Joey, honey - I've got the money
All is forgiven. Listen, listen
And if I seem to be confused
I didn't mean to be with you.
And when you said I scared you,
well I guess you scared me too.
But we got lucky once before
And I don't wanna close the door
And if you're somewhere out there
passed out on the floor.
Oh Joey, I'm not angry anymore.

<bridge>

and if I seem to be confused
I didn't mean to be with you.
but when you said I scared you,
well I guess you scared me too.
But if its love you're looking for
well i can give a whole lot more
And if you're somewhere out there,
passed out on the floor.
Oh Joey, I'm not angry anymore.


Christmas Card From A Hooker In Minneapolis
Tom Waits

Charley I'm pregnant
and living on 9-th street
right above a dirty bookstore
off Euclid avenue
and I stopped taking dope
and I quit drinking whiskey
and my old man plays the trombone
and works out at the track.

and he says that he loves me
even though its not his baby
and he says that he'll raise him up
like he would his own son
and he gave me a ring
that was worn by his mother
and he takes me out dancing
every saturday nite.

and hey Charley I think about you
everytime I pass a fillin' station
on account of all the grease
you used to wear in your hair
and I still have that record
of Little Anthony & the Imperials
but someone stole my record player
how do you like that?

Charley I almost went crazy
after mario got busted
so I went back to Omaha to
live with my folks
but everyone I used to know
was either dead or in prison
so I came back in Minneapolis
this time I think I'm gonna stay.

Charley I think I'm happy
for the first time since my accident
and I wish I had all the money
that we used to spend on dope
I'd buy me a used car lot
and I wouldn't sell any of em
I'd just drive a different car
every day dependin on how
I feel.

Charley
for chrissakes
do you want to know
the truth of it?
I don't have a husband
he don't play the trombone
and I need to borrow money
to pay this lawyer
and Charley, hey
I'll be eligible for parole
come valentines day.


Beth
Kiss

Beth, I hear you callin'
But I can't come home right now
Me and the boys are playin'
And we just can't find the sound
Just a few more hours
And I'll be right home to you
I think I hear them callin'
Oh, beth what can I do
Beth what can I do

You say you feel so empty
That our house just ain't a home
And I'm always somewhere else
And you're always there alone

Just a few more hours
And I'll be right home to you
I think I hear them callin'
Oh, beth what can I do
Beth what can I do

Beth, I know you're lonely
And I hope you'll be alright
'cause me and the boys will be playin'
All night


Mr. Wrong
Cracker

Well, meet me by the river that goes nowhere.
Let me lay my sorry trip on you.
Won't you meet me by the river, little darling'?
I might just let you see my bad tattoo.

Well I was gonna bring you flowers, but I didn't.
It's the thought that counts and I think I'm a bit too broke.
But there's some change in my ashtray--maybe just enough to pay.
For a half pint of somethin', probably make us choke.

CHORUS:
Well you know I'd rather not go and meet your family.
They'd probably send me back where I belong.
Don't want to hear about Mr. Right.
'Cause he's out of town tonight.
Baby come and spend some time with Mr. Wrong.

I drive a one-eyed Malibu without a muffler.
And a tape deck that works if you kick it hard enough.
And baby if you like to read, I've got some great pornography.
And a ten pound flashlight rolling in the trunk.

CHORUS

Now, do you have a girlfriend and does she look as good as you?
Would she like to meet my brother?
He'll be out of jail in a month or two.

CHORUS

Where I come from they call me Mr. Wrong.


What Kinda Guy?
Steve Forbert

What kinda guy am I really am?
I love some turkey, but I don't eat lamb.
No sweet potato, but I do like ham.
What kinda guy am I really am?

What kinda guy am I really I?
I kept my jacket, but I lost my tie.
I'll tell ya truly that I sometimes lie.
What kinda guy am I really I?

What kinda guy am I really who?
Don't wear pajamas and I don't sniff glue.
I'm Mississippi, got the New York blues.
What kinda guy am I really who?

What kinda guy am I really what?
I might be leavin', but the door ain't shut.
I'm here for lovin', but I ain't no slut.
What kinda guy am I really what?

What kinda guy am I really am?
I love some turkey, but I don't eat lamb.
No sweet potato, but I do like ham.
What kinda guy am I really am?


PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT
there are elements of this last song that people might find offensive, but it's a true representation of a segment of the population, if you don't beleive me, tune into cops some night

Stuart
The Dead Milkmen

You know what, Stuart, I LIKE YOU. You're not like the other
people, here, in the trailer park.

Oh, don't go get me wrong. They're fine people, they're
good Americans. But they're content to sit back, maybe
watch a little Mork and Mindy on channel 57, maybe kick
back a cool, Coors 16-ouncer. They're good, fine people,
Stuart. But they don't know ... what the queers are doing
to the soil!

You know that Jonny Wurster kid, the kid that delivers papers
in the neighborhood. He's a foreign kid. Some of the neighbors
say he smokes crack, but I don't believe it.

Anyway, for his tenth birthday, all he wanted was a Burrow Owl.
Kept bugging his old man. "Dad, get me a burrow owl. I'll never
ask for anything else as long as I live." So the guy
breaks down and buys him a burrow owl.

Anyway, 10:30, the other night, I go out in my yard, and there's
the Wurster kid, looking up in the tree. I say, "What are
you looking for?" He says "I'm looking for my burrow owl."
I say, "Jumping Jesus on a Pogo Stick. Everybody knows
the burrow owl lives. In a hole. In the ground. Why the hell do you
think they call it a burrow owl, anyway?" Now Stuart, do you
think a kid like that is going to know what the queers are
doing to the soil?

I first became aware of this about ten years ago, the summer
my oldest boy, Bill Jr. died. You know that carnival comes into
town every year? Well this year they came through with a ride
called The Mixer. The man said, "Keep your head, and arms, inside
the Mixer at all times." But Bill Jr, he was a DAAAREDEVIL, just
like his old man. He was leaning out saying "Hey everybody,
Look at me! Look at me!" Pow! He was decapitated! They found
his head over by the snow cone concession.

A few days after that, I open up the mail. And there's a pamphlet
in there. From Pueblo, Colorado, and it's addressed to Bill, Jr.
And it's entitled, "Do you know what the queers are doing to our
soil?"

Now, Stuart, if you look at the soil around any large US city,
where there's a big underground homosexual population. Take Des Moines, Iowa,
for an example. Look at the soil around Des Moines, Stuart.
You can't build on it; you can't grow anything in it. The government
says it's due to poor farming. But I know what's really going on,
Stuart. I know it's the queers. They're in it with the aliens.
They're building landing strips for gay Martians, I swear to
God.

You know what, Stuart, I like you. You're not like the other
people, here in this trailer park.

We know thee for a good man and true, dj. (Prince Escalus to Friar Laurence in Romeo and Juliet; paraphrased, of course. )

Well, Ed Wood was a man who brought what he could to the world of the insane, dj, and in that he was a sage. Johnny Depp wasn't bad at it, either. I do wish I knew more of the songs that you sing here, I just know they are intriguing. I am, however, fascinated by Conceret Blond and her Joey, and the hooker from Minneapolis.

Do you think, perhaps, you could find out that song about the minstrel?

Listeners, I once did a confession on A2K concerning this idea:

"Boston, dear Boston, the land of the bean and the cod,
Where the Cabots speak only to the Lodges, and the Lodges speak only to God". In other words, it was not original with Letty.

It was one of those two patriarchs that defeated Wilson's League of Nations.

Hey, all. Know what songs we have omitted here on WA2K? BARBERSHOP quartets. Know any?

Sweet Adeline,
My Adeline,
At night dear heart,
For you I pine.
In all my dreams,
Your fair face beams.
You're the flower of my heart,
Sweet Adeline
(my Adeline)

Question of the evening:

What was the significance of the barber pole?

Big Blon Baby

Wailin' on the corner like an ol' tomcat shoutin' and a shakin' almost off my bat
Who walks by me oh my jumpin' jeshosaphat big blon' baby
Yesterday she kissed me she was so divine
Fell right down and begged her to be mine all mine
Held her tight ooh good night jumpin' jeshosaphat big blon' baby
Big blon' baby ooh glory be here I go big blon' baby
Yeah Lord I love her so
I shiver and I quiver when she kisses me Lord she gonna set ol' Jerry Lee free
Held her tight ooh good night jumpin' jeshosaphat big blon' baby

djjd62, that was an amazing collection of songs. A little cynical, very real and sometimes, poignantly funny.

can't find any lyrics for the wandering minstrel, did find the sheet music to a jig however



The red and white striped barber pole remains in general use although few realize its original significance. It is centuries old and an importation form Europe. Its significance is that the barber of medieval days was also the surgeon, or "blood letter." Blood-letting was a common treatment for almost any ill. The red stripes denoted the blood; the white, the barber's bandage.

why thank you. i've always liked lyrics as much, if not more than music

and as for the cynicism, well i'm a product of the twentieth century

I Am Produced
Guided by voices

I am pressed, printed, stomped
And strategically removed
I am everybody
Insane without innocence
I am trapped, tricked, packaged
And shipped out
I am produced
I am produced
Pressed, printed, stomped, tripped
Trapped, tricked, packaged, shipped...
(the prisoner leaves limping)

edgar, Jumpin' Jeshosophat, Big blon baby? I love that! Reminded me of all the women and men in leather and ridin' hawgs down here. One guy reved up that cycle and about ruptured my timpani.

Right on, dj. Anyone remember Sweeny Todd? ouch. Those barber poles are antiques, now. Hey, I'll print out that sheet music and play it on the piano. Had I perfect pitch, I wouldn't have to do that.

Hmmm. I am produced, guided by voices. eerie, dj.

Well, Lady Diane. How was your garden party?

Well, listeners, here's my goodnight song:

Thomas R. Lounsbury, ed. (1838-1915). Yale Book of American Verse. 1912.

Elizabeth (Akers) Allen. 1832-1911

173. Rock Me to Sleep

BACKWARD, turn backward, O Time, in your flight,
Make me a child again just for to-night!
Mother, come back from the echoless shore,
Take me again to your heart as of yore;
Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care, 5
Smooth the few silver threads out of my hair;
Over my slumbers your loving watch keep;?-
Rock me to sleep, mother,?-rock me to sleep!

Backward, flow backward, O tide of the years!
I am so weary of toil and of tears,?- 10
Toil without recompense, tears all in vain,?-
Take them, and give me my childhood again!
I have grown weary of dust and decay,?-
Weary of flinging my soul-wealth away;
Weary of sowing for others to reap;?- 15
Rock me to sleep, mother,?-rock me to sleep!

Tired of the hollow, the base, the untrue,
Mother, O mother, my heart calls for you!
Many a summer the grass has grown green,
Blossomed and faded, our faces between: 20
Yet, with strong yearning and passionate pain,
Long I to-night for your presence again.
Come from the silence so long and so deep;?-
Rock me to sleep, mother,?-rock me to sleep!

Over my heart, in the days that are flown, 25
No love like mother-love ever has shone;
No other worship abides and endures,?-
Faithful, unselfish, and patient like yours:
None like a mother can charm away pain
From the sick soul and the world-weary brain. 30
Slumber's soft calms o'er my heavy lids creep;?-
Rock me to sleep, mother,?-rock me to sleep!

Come, let your brown hair, just lighted with gold,
Fall on your shoulders again as of old;
Let it drop over my forehead to-night, 35
Shading my faint eyes away from the light;
For with its sunny-edged shadows once more
Haply will throng the sweet visions of yore;
Lovingly, softly, its bright billows sweep;?-
Rock me to sleep, mother,?-rock me to sleep! 40

Mother, dear mother, the years have been long
Since I last listened your lullaby song:
Sing, then, and unto my soul it shall seem
Womanhood's years have been only a dream.
Clasped to your heart in a loving embrace, 45
With your light lashes just sweeping my face,
Never hereafter to wake or to weep;?-
Rock me to sleep, mother,?-rock me to sleep!

But not with rocks.

goodnight,
From Letty with love

good night letty

my goodnight song comes from sir elton himself

Roy Rogers
Elton John

Sometimes you dream, sometimes it seems
There's nothing there at all
You just seem older than yesterday
And you're waiting for tomorrow to call

You draw to the curtain and one thing's for certain
You're cozy in your little room
The carpet's all paid for, God bless the TV
Let's go shoot a hole in the moon

And Roy Rogers is riding tonight
Returning to our silver screens
Comic book characters never grow old
Evergreen heroes whose stories were told
Oh the great sequin cowboy who sings of the plains
Of roundups and rustlers and home on the range
Turn on the T.V., shut out the lights
Roy Rogers is riding tonight

Nine o'clock mornings, five o'clock evenings
I'd liven the pace if I could
Oh I'd rather have a ham in my sandwich than cheese
But complaining wouldn't do any good

Lay back in my armchair, close eyes and think clear
I can hear hoofbeats ahead
Roy and Trigger have just hit the hilltop
While the wife and the kids are in bed

when you see
a memory
riding off like randolph scott
if he waves
like gabby hayes
you're gonna miss 'im an awful lot ...

Whatever Happened To Randolph Scott
The Statler Brothers

Everbody knows when you go to the show
You can't take the kids along
You've gotta read the paper and know the code
of G, PG and R and X
You gotta know what the movie's about
Before you even go
Tex Ritter's gone and Disney's dead
And the screen is filled with sex

CHORUS
Whatever happened to Randolph Scott
ridin' the trail alone
Whatever happened to Gene and Tex
And Roy and Rex, the Durango Kid
Oh whatever happened to Randolph Scott
His horse, plain as can be
Whatever happened to Randolph Scott
Has happened to the best of me

Everbody's tryin' to make a comment
About our doubts and fears
True Grit's the only movie
I've really understood in years
You gotta take your analyst along
To see if it's fit to see
Whatever happened to Randolph Scott
Has happened to the industry

Whatever happened to Johnny Mack Brown
And Alan Rocky Lane
Whatever happened to Lash LaRue
I'd love to see them again
Whatever happened to Smiley Burnett
Tim Holt and Gene Autry
Whatever happened to all of these
Has happened to the best of me

Whatever happened to Randolph Scott
Has happened to the industry

Neil's recovering from brain surgery. Don't pull his plug!

NEIL YOUNG LYRICS

"Like An Inca"

Said the condor
to the preying mantis
We're gonna lose this place
just like we lost Atlantis
Brother we got to go
sooner than you know
The Gypsy told my fortune,
she said that nothin' showed.

Who put the bomb
on the sacred altar?
Why should we die
if it comes our way?
Why should we care
about a little button
Being pushed by someone
we don't even know?

Well. I wish I was an Aztec,
Or a runner in Peru
I would build such
beautiful buildings
To house the chosen few
Like an Inca from Peru.

If you want to get high,
build a strong foundation
Sink those pylons deep now
and reach for the sky
If you want to get lost
in the jungle rhythm
Get down on the ground
and pretend you're swimmin'.

If you want to put ice
in the lava river
First you must climb,
then you must stand and shiver
Brother we got to go
sooner than you know
The Gypsy told my fortune,
the Gypsy told my fortune,
The Gypsy told my fortune,
she said that nothing showed

Well I wish I was an Aztec,
Or a runner in Peru
I would build
such beautiful buildings
To house the chosen few
Like an Inca from Peru.

Said the condor
to the preying mantis
We're gonna lose this place
just like we lost Atlantis
Brother we got to go
sooner than you know
The Gypsy told my fortune,
the Gypsy told my fortune,
The Gypsy told my fortune,
she said that nothin' showed.

Who put the bomb
on the sacred altar?
Why should we die
if it comes our way?
Why should we care
about a little button
Being pushed by someone
we don't even know?

Well. I wish I was an Aztec,
Or a runner in Peru
I would build
such beautiful buildings
To house the chosen few
Like an Inca from Peru.

I feel sad, but I feel happy
As I'm coming back to home
There's a bridge across the river
That I have to cross alone
Like a skipping rolling stone
Like an Inca.

one of my favourite neil songs

Thrasher
Neil Young

They were hiding behind hay bales,
They were planting
in the full moon
They had given all they had
for something new
But the light of day was on them,
They could see the thrashers coming
And the water
shone like diamonds in the dew.

And I was just getting up,
hit the road before it's light
Trying to catch an hour on the sun
When I saw
those thrashers rolling by,
Looking more than two lanes wide
I was feelin'
like my day had just begun.

Where the eagle glides ascending
There's an ancient river bending
Down the timeless gorge of changes
Where sleeplessness awaits
I searched out my companions,
Who were lost in crystal canyons
When the aimless blade of science
Slashed the pearly gates.

It was then I knew I'd had enough,
Burned my credit card for fuel
Headed out to where the pavement
turns to sand
With a one-way ticket
to the land of truth
And my suitcase in my hand
How I lost my friends
I still don't understand.

They had the best selection,
They were poisoned with protection
There was nothing that they needed,
Nothing left to find
They were lost in rock formations
Or became park bench mutations
On the sidewalks
and in the stations
They were waiting, waiting.

So I got bored and left them there,
They were just deadweight to me
Better down the road
without that load
Brings back the time
when I was eight or nine
I was watchin' my mama's T.V.,
It was that great
Grand Canyon rescue episode.

Where the vulture glides descending
On an asphalt highway bending
Thru libraries and museums,
galaxies and stars
Down the windy halls of friendship
To the rose clipped by the bullwhip
The motel of lost companions
Waits with heated pool and bar.

But me I'm not stopping there,
Got my own row left to hoe
Just another line
in the field of time
When the thrasher comes,
I'll be stuck in the sun
Like the dinosaurs in shrines
But I'll know the time has come
To give what's mine.

The Mikado
A WANDERING MINSTREL I

Libretto by William S. Gilbert
Music by Sir Arthur Sullivan
Sung by Nanki-Poo and Chorus

MIDI file (12K, 2 min. 36 seconds).

A wandering minstrel I--
A thing of shreds and patches,
Of ballads, songs and snatches,
And dreamy lullaby!

My catalogue is long,
Through every passion ranging,
And to your humours changing
I tune my supple song!
I tune my supple song!

Are you in sentimental mood?

I'll sigh with you,
Oh, sorrow!

On maiden's coldness do you brood?

I'll do so, too--
Oh, sorrow, sorrow!

I'll charm your willing ears
With songs of lovers' fears,
While sympathetic tears

My cheeks bedew!
Oh, sorrow, sorrow!

But if patriotic sentiment is wanted,
I've patriotic ballads cut and dried;
For where'er our country's banner may be planted,
All other local banners are defied!
Our warriors, in serried ranks assembled,
Never quail--or they conceal it if they do--
And I shouldn't be surprised if nations trembled
Before the mighty troops, the troops of Titipu!

And if you call for a song of the sea,

We'll heave the capstan round,
With a yeo heave ho, for the wind is free,
Her anchor's a-trip and her helm's a-lee,
Hurrah for the homeward bound!

To lay aloft in a howling breeze
May tickle a landsman's taste,
But the happiest hour a sailor sees
Is when he's down
At an inland town,
With his Nancy on his knees, yeo ho!
And his arm around her waist!

A wandering minstrel I--
A thing of shreds and patches,
Of ballads, songs and snatches,
And dreamy lullaby, and dreamy lula lulaby, lulaby!

Having entered post above I couldn't resist throwing in Three Little Maids.

The Mikado
THREE LITTLE MAIDS FROM SCHOOL ARE WE

Libretto by William S. Gilbert
Music by Sir Arthur Sullivan
Sung by Yum-Yum, Peep-Bo, and Pitti-Sing

MIDI file (11K, 1 min. 38 seconds).

THE THREE.

Three little maids from school are we,
Pert as a school-girl well can be,
Filled to the brim with girlish glee,
Three little maids from school!

YUM-YUM.

Everything is a source of fun. (Chuckle)

PEEP-BO.

Nobody's safe, for we care for none! (Chuckle)

PITTI-SING.

Life is a joke that's just begun! (Chuckle)

THE THREE.

Three little maids from school!

THR THREE.

Three little maids who, all unwary,
Come from a ladies' seminary,
Freed from its genius tutelary--
Three little maids from school!
Three little maids from school!

YUM-YUM.

One little maid is a bride, Yum-Yum--

PEEP-BO.

Two little maids in attendance come--

PITTI-SING.

Three little maids is the total sum.

THE THREE.

Three little maids from school!
Three little maids from school!

YUM-YUM.

From three little maids take one away.

PEEP-BO.

Two little maids remain, and they--

PITTI-SING.

Won't have to wait very long, they say--

THE THREE.

Three little maids from school!
Three little maids from school!

THE THREE.

Three little maids who, all unwary,
Come from a ladies' seminary,
Freed from its genius tutelary--
Three little maids from school!
Three little maids from school!

Now the choir on Friday night
All sing better whan they're tight
And when they sing Cwm Rhondda
All the angels jive up yonder

Did you ever see
Did you ever see
Did you ever see
Such a funny thing before