WA2K Radio is now on the air

another song on the subject of lying

Fibber Island
They Might Be Giants

Here on Fibber Island
We strum rubber guitars
Our friends live on Mars
And we sew buttons on our cars

Here on Fibber Island
Our house is made of pie
Our dog is two miles wide
And all he talks about is pie

Here on Fibber Island
We swim on the ground
Wheels are square, not round
We eat chocolate by the pound

Here on Fibber Island (here on Fibber Island)
No one sings along (no one sings along)
We just ride giraffes (we just ride giraffes)
And wear bicycles for hats (bicycles for hats)

To get to Fibber Island (oooooh)
You just close your eyes (oooooh)
Start fibbin' in your mind (oooooh)
And see what you can find (oooooh)

Here on Fibber Island
We hide mittens in our hair
You might need to stare
To see the mittens in our hair

Come to Fibber Island
And strum rubber guitars
Meet our friends from Mars
And sew buttons on our cars

Good morning folks. Yep. Another 2:00 am night. Sang again but probably sounded better as the throat didn't feel as ornery. Seeing Edgar's boy scout song reminded me of Tom Lehrer. Hey Tom can you parade that by us again?

BE PREPARED

Tom Lehrer


You know: of all the songs I've ever sung, that is the one I've had the most requests not to.
I have time for one more here. this one is a little song dedicated to the boy scouts of america. [applause] we seem to have a convention here tonight. the boy scouts of america, those noble little
Bastions of democracy, and the american legion of tomorrow. their motto is... I would like to state at this time that I am not now and have never been... a member of the boy scouts of america.
Motto is, as you know, be prepared! and that is the name of this song.

Be prepared! that's the boy scout's marching song,
Be prepared! as through life you march along.
Be prepared to hold your liquor pretty well,
Don't write naughty words on walls if you can't spell.

Be prepared! to hide that pack of cigarettes,
Don't make book if you cannot cover bets.
Keep those reefers hidden where you're sure
That they will not be found
And be careful not to smoke them
When the scoutmaster's around
For he only will insist that it be shared.
Be prepared!

Be prepared! that's the boy scouts' solemn creed,
Be prepared! and be clean in word and deed.
Don't solicit for your sister, that's not nice,
Unless you get a good percentage of her price.

Be prepared! and be careful not to do
Your good deeds when there's no one watching you.
If you're looking for adventure of a
New and different kind,
And you come across a girl scout who is
Similarly inclined,
Don't be nervous, don't be flustered, don't be scared.
Be prepared!

Good morning, WA2K listeners.

My word. I have never heard such delightful songs and parodies. It's almost impossible to sort through them all and comment, but here in our studios we appreciate each contribution from dj, edgar, dys, McTag and all who listen and enjoy.

McTag, I hadn't realized that Fiona's line was from a song. Will check it out later as I have no idea from whence it came.

Bob, you are unbelievable with your late night sessions. How do you do it, Boston? My word, listeners, The Boy Scouts. I do believe that our husker was an eagle scout.

Back later, folks, after I jump start my thoughts.

Good morning everyone

I love the collection of silly songs and parodies.


Eener Meener

Chorus: Eener-meener and a miner-mo
Catch a wiffer-waffer by the toe
And if he hollers, hollers, hollers, don't let him go,
I'm singin' eener-meener and a miner-mo

A peanut sat on the railroad track
Its heart was all a-flutter
Along came the 4:15
Toot toot, peanut butter
(Chorus)

My father is a butcher
My mother is a cook
And I'm the little hot-dog
That runs around the brook
(Chorus)

My father built a chimney
He built it up so high
He had to take it down each night
To let the moon go by
(Chorus)

My mother is a German
My father is a spy
Me and my big mouth
I told the FBI
(Chorus)

They laid me in the sewer,
They laid me there to die
They didn't call it murder,
They called it sewercide
(Chorus)

Hee hee, colorbook. What absolute silliness. Love it! What's the little moral thing about the dog? He was sitting near the railroad track lost in meditation. A fast bound train came roaring down and snipped off a bit of his tail, and as he turned his face to lick the place of pain, the remainder of the train ran over his head.

Moral: don't lose your head over a little piece of tail.

And as the sun climbs slowly in the East, we contemplate our thoughts and the raison d'etre. (sure we do.)

Well, listeners, where do we go from here? Music, news, jokes, bio's of our every day life and whatever pleases our listeners.

we used to sing this on bus trips when i was young, it was sung to the tune of an old standard i believe, but i can't remember which one


we live for you, we die for you
national embalming school

and when your dead
we'll dig a hole
and leave you there
to rot and mold

we live for you, we die for you
national embalming school

post mortem, post mortem, post mortem
autopsy we will go

here's a more "fleshed out" version (pardon the pun)

When you're in the Boy Scouts - in New Hampshire - in a troop sponsored by a Catholic church - your outlook on live tends to lack a little sophistication. Might even be described as Wobegonean. Thus, life was breathed into this camp fire classic:

National Embalming School
(Sung to the tune of O, Tannenbaum - mostly)

We live for you, we die for you,
National Embalming School.
We do our best to give you rest,
National Embalming School.

And when you die we dig a whole
And slip you in to turn to mold.

We live for you, We die for you,
National Embalming School.

(Music for the bridge is ad-libbed)
Cut the gut and have a drink.
There's got to be a reason.
Golly how the body stinks,
It must be out of season.

(This next part of the bridge is sung to A Hunting We Will Go)
Postmortem! Postmortem! Postmortem!
Autopsy we must have!
Postmortem! Postmortem! Postmortem!
Autopsy we must have!

(Close with refrain:)
We live for you, We die for you,
National Embalming School.

the highlighted bit i'd never heard before

fun site for campfire songs

Camp-Song Songbook

My word, dj. did camp fire folks really sing those songs? I recall going with my oldest sister to a camp fire get together and all they did was roast marshmallows and tell ghost stories that weren't even scary.

A change of pace, listeners.



Think about it, there must be higher love
Down in the heart or hidden in the stars above
Without it, life is a wasted time
Look inside your heart, I'll look inside mine
Things look so bad everywhere
In this whole world, what is fair?
We walk blind and we try to see
Falling behind in what could be

Bring me a higher love
Bring me a higher love
Bring me a higher love
Where's that higher love I keep thinking of?

Worlds are turning and we're just hanging on
Facing our fear and standing out there alone
A yearning, and it's real to me
There must be someone who's feeling for me
Things look so bad everywhere
In this whole world, what is fair?
We walk blind and we try to see
Falling behind in what could be

Bring me a higher love
Bring me a higher love
Bring me a higher love
Where's that higher love I keep thinking of?

Bring me a higher love
Bring me a higher love
Bring be a higher love
I could rise above on a higher love

I will wait for it
I'm not too late for it
Until then, I'll sing my song
To cheer the night along
Bring it...oh bring it...

I could light the night up with my soul on fire
I could make the sun shine from pure desire
Let me feel that love come over me
Let me feel how strong it could be

Bring me a higher love
Bring me a higher love
Bring me a higher love
Where's that higher love I keep thinking of?

I suppose, folks, that all of us wonder from time to time about that "higher" love. and then we recall Frost's idea at the end of his poem "Birches", and realize that he believes that earth is where love is.

it's april 24th and it's snowing, it's been snowing since saturday morning and will probably keep snowing until monday morning

welcome to spring

and, dj. It's really cool here for this time of year.

Listeners, Do you have the sort of thought process that thinks in antonyms? Often I do:

Diamond Rio Lyrics

Something Cool
(Kim Williams/L. David Lewis)

Something cool, hey, won't you pour me
Something cool, set one up for me
Anything will do
Just make it something cool
Something sad, hey, won't you play me
Something sad, play one that slays me
Play me something blue
To go with something cool

Bridge
There's an old flame burning in me
Like the sun in a July sky
Seems to me, I'm always thirsty
Since she left me high and dry

Something cool
Something cool

Repeat Bridge

Something cool, hey, won't you pour me
Something cool, set one up for me
Anything will do
Just make it something cool

Watched a movie last night. "Changing Lanes" with Ben Affleck and Samuel Jackson. The entire thing was intense and took place in one day. How strange the possibility of random occurences and how they could change our lives forever.

Letty
Meeting a man from the motor trade
appears in the song I posted last. It is the Beatles' "She's Leaving Home."

oops, Thanks, edgar. I think it may be the way the light shines through my blinds. Any old excuse in a storm of songs, right?

Hmmmm. I just recalled Eric Berne's book, The Games People Play.




Games People Play
"Most people, in most of their family and business relationships, are constantly playing games with each other. What's more, they are striving - often unconsciously - for an emotional 'payoff' which is startlingly different from what they might rationally expect to get from winning or losing their game. Here is an intriguing phenomenon which everyone has observed at one or another..."

Nobody could catch every detail of a thread like this. Not me, at least. Here is my Bobby Darin song taken from the clue provided much earlier.


Eighteen Yellow Roses

Eighteen yellow roses came today
Eighteen yellow roses in a pretty bouquet
When the boy came to the door
I didn't know what to say
But, eighteen yellow roses came today.

I opened up the card to see what it said
I couldn't believe my eyes
When I had read
Though you belong to another I love you anyway
Yes, eighteen yellow roses came today.

I never doubted your love for a minute
I always thought that you would be true
But now this box and the flowers in it
I guess there's nothin' left for me to do.

But ask to meet the boy that's done this thing
And find out if he's got plans to buy you a ring
'cause eighteen yellow roses
Will wilt and die one day ...

But … a father's love will never fade away
Will never fade away …

Hi Edgar. Your post reminded me of my best friend Richie who died of a heart attack five years ago. He was a construction worker, a brute of a man with that soft inner core a lot of big men have. His favorites song, one I'd like to sing but can't as it moves me too much was Butterfly Kisses. It was played at the wedding reception for his first daughter.


Carlisle, Bob


Butterfly Kisses

There's two things I know for sure
She was sent here from heaven, and she's Daddy's little girl.
As I drop to my knees by her bed at night
She talks to Jesus and I close my eyes
And I thank God for all of the joy in my life, oh but most of all...

For butterfly kisses after bedtime prayer
Sticking little white flowers all up in her hair
Walk beside the pony Daddy, it's my first ride
I know the cake looks funny Daddy, but I sure tried
Oh with all that I've done wrong, I must of done something right
To deserve a hug every morning, and butterfly kisses at night.

Sweet sixteen today
She's looking like her Mama, a little more everyday.
One part woman, the other part girl
To perfume and makeup, from ribbons and curls.
Trying her wings out in a great big world
But I remember...

Butterfly kisses after bedtime prayer
Sticking little white flowers all up in her hair.
You know how much I love you Daddy, but if you don't mind
I'm only gonna kiss you on the cheek this time.
With all that I've done wrong, I must of done something right
To deserve her love every morning, and butterfly kisses at night.

All the precious time,
Oh, like the wind the years go by.
Precious butterfly,
Spread your wings and fly.

She'll change her name today.
She'll make a promise, and I'll give her away.
Standing in the brideroom just staring at her
She asks me what I'm thinking, and I said I'm not sure.
I just feel like I'm losing my baby girl,
And she leaned over...

Gave me butterfly kisses with her Mama there
Sticking little white flowers all up in her hair.
Walk me down the aisle Daddy, it's just about time.
Does my wedding gown look pretty Daddy?
Daddy, don't cry.
Oh, with all that I've done wrong, I must of done something right.
To deserve her love every morning, and butterfly kisses,
I couldn't ask God for more, than this is what love is.
I know I gotta let her go, but I'll always remember...
Every hug in the morning, and butterfly kisses.

Sorry, Edgar. I looked that Bobby Darin song up, but I didn't post the lyrics (because I had to look them up, and I thought that would have been cheating a bit.) Nice song.

Funnily enough, I remember very clearly songs from 1962 because that was the year I left school. Bobby Darin's song "Things (We Used To Do)" was a big hit here, that summer.

My mystery line for today, is

"There are people there who care a little 'bout me"

Just listen to Bob Carlisle - Butterfly Kisses.

Nice and peaceful song!

Ah, folks, often we listen to songs intensely, and then there are times when we lie back and bathe in the tones.

Yellow Roses is very sad and wistful, and Butterfly Kisses brings back memories of doing just that. Putting your face against the cheek of someone and fluttering your eyelashes--much better than the butterfly effect, no?

McTag, thou be an honest man-- no drifting, shifting, quickening sand.
edgar sits and sings-- remembers
Bob, a man of glowing embers,
Francis, continental drift of self and gentle in the art of health
Not of the body but of soul.

Makes a Letty wander anew and think of songs that smiled right through:

Channing pollock/maurice yvain / albert willemetz/jaques charles

It cost me a lot
But there's one thing that I've got
It's my man
It's my man

Cold or wet
Tired, you bet
All of this I'll soon forget
With my man

He's not much on looks
He's no hero out of books
But I love him
Yes, I love him

Two or three girls
Has he
That he likes as well as me
But I love him

I don't know why I should
He isn't true
He beats me, too
What can I do?

Oh, my man, I love him so
He'll never know
All my life is just a spare
But I don't care
When he takes me in his arms
The world is bright
All right

What's the difference if I say
I'll go away
When I know I'll come back
On my knees someday

For whatever my man is
I'm his forevermore

Lady Day.

Fanny Brice introduced "My Man" in the "Follies of 1921, and Barbra Streisand sang it when she played Fanny Brice in "Funny Girl" and today is Barbra's birthday. How's that for timing.

April 24 Birthday Celebrities:

1743 Edmund Cartwright, cleric and inventor (Nottinghamshire, England; died 1823)
1766 Robert Bailey Thomas, founder and editor of The Farmer's Almanac (Grafton, MA; died 1846)
1815 Anthony Trollope, novelist (London, England; died 1882)
1905 Robert Penn Warren, poet/novelist/essayist (Guthrie, KY; died 1989)
1934 Shirley MacLaine, actress/dancer and writer (Richmond, VA)
1940 Sue Grafton, mystery writer (Louisville, KY)
1941 Richard Holbrooke, U.S. representative to the UN (New York, NY)
1942 Richard M. Daley, Chicago mayor (Chicago, IL)
Barbra Streisand, singer/actress/director (Brooklyn, NY)
1953 Eric Bogosian, actor/playwright (Boston, MA)
1954 Vince Ferragamo, football player (Torrance, CA)
1955 Michael O'Keefe, actor (Larchmont, NY)
1972 Chipper Jones, baseball player (DeLand, FL)

Ah, Raggedy. How magic is our radio; just flip the dial and off we go.

Remember, radio fans. Timing is our most important project.

From the pen of Robert Penn:






Evening Hawk


From plane of light to plane, wings dipping through
Geometries and orchids that the sunset builds,
Out of the peak's black angularity of shadow, riding
The last tumultuous avalanche of
Light above pines and the guttural gorge,
The hawk comes.
His wing
Scythes down another day, his motion
Is that of the honed steel-edge, we hear
The crashless fall of stalks of Time.

The head of each stalk is heavy with the gold of our error.

Look!Look!he is climbing the last light
Who knows neither Time nor error, and under
Whose eye, unforgiving, the world, unforgiven, swings
Into shadow.

Long now,
The last thrush is still, the last bat
Now cruises in his sharp hieroglyphics.His wisdom
Is ancient, too, and immense.The star
Is steady, like Plato, over the mountain.

If there were no wind we might, we think, hear
The earth grind on its axis, or history
Drip in darkness like a leaking pipe in the cellar.

Robert Penn Warren