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A long, long time ago…
I could still remember
Words to music that once made me smile.
Now lyrics by such groups as Wings
I can’t recall—Paul’zheimers brings
a pox upon my mind’s melodic files.

Still— ‘Secret Asian Man’ delivers
Say, was that Joan… or Johnny Rivers?
Recall’s misbegotten
Whole stanzas I’ve forgotten

I think it was Avril McLean
who sang “Pie o’ Mine’s a Boi Toi Scene”
Or was that J’Lo cov’ring Queen?
Oy Vey! The music’s fried!

So…
Why cry? This repise’ll still fly—
Singin’ “Chevys float near levees
‘cause Katrina came by”
Then – “Its raining Gwen”, by K.D. Lang (no surprise…)
And “I’m all out of gloves” —by Air Supply
(M.J. can relate in Dubai)

Did you ‘synch’ to love songs well?
And would you ‘Ashley’ on SNL?
(Lorne refuses all her calls)
Do you believe Sting has a soul?
Can Urban really stand Nichole?
And yes Blunt taught me how to gag reeeal slow

Well, I know you think rap’s awfully nice
‘Cause I saw you lick Vanilla Ice
When most groups sang the blues
Man, the Mel-tones crooned about Jews

I was a tone-deaf teenage singin’ schmuck
With an i-Victrola in my pickup truck
Sang Barry White like Donald Duck
And Ray, I Gaye-ified

And I’m still singin’
Aye, Bligh! Mut’ny’d memory’s sly
Recall’s stinkin,’ has me thinkin’
Kwanzaa’s Fourth of July
Karaoke folk were thinkin’ “Man that dude’s high!”
Gotta laugh, ‘cause I hate whisky and rye
Even more than ‘Oxy-Clean’ guy…

Well ‘The Fifties’ may ‘un-twist’ my brain
Could El-vish oldies re-coup re-frains
Or Smokey Boone jog memories?
When Fats Sinatra belted R & B
In some boots he borrowed—from Nancy(!?)
I thought, “Dude—you’re the next Bing Croce!”

Oh, and while The King gyrated so
Miss Dinah Domino would blow
When Chubby Holly crooned
Those ‘sweater girls’ bazoomed!
And while Dino led his Pips on stage
And ‘Love Me Blender’ was the rage
Those closet locks were still engaged
‘Twas *way* before gay pride

I’m still singing…
Why cry ‘cause yer verse goes awry?
Who’ll care if ‘Shot The Sherriff’
Implicates a Rabbi?
Or if Song Sung Blue’s a jab at abstainin’ guys
Mem’ry’s mangled, man, in ways that defy—
Better give ‘The Sixties’ a try…

Gnarly Harleys, Easy Ridin’ Marleys
Now Cher’s pre-Sonny and pre-op (bar-ly)
Nudy Blues worked out their Kiiinks!
Then Dylan broke some potent ‘Wind’
While Beach Boy’s got their Woodies rimmed
And KFJ caught more than forty winks

Well then Purple Haze was blowin’ smoke
Sayin’ Yoko Ono’s a tranny bloke
When Byrds flocked in tight pants
Al Hitchcock was entranced!
Back then ‘acid heads’ said “trippin’s swell”
Now gangsta’ rap’s how kids rebel
Since LSD’s gone DSL
Today, we’re all i-highed

I can’t stop singing…
Fly, Sly! Family Stoners got high
Wilson Pickett bought ten tickets
On Keith’s can-i-Bus ride
While Osmond twins in-utero harmonized
a’ singin’, “Romney’s our next President Guy”
“Billary, just curl up and die.”

Oh, ‘The Seventies’, I’m skippin’ Chuck
‘Cause what’s the point with ‘Disco Duck’?
And ‘Eighties’ weren’t that kind to me
So come on—Beck be nimble, Wham be slick
Manheim shat on ol’ Handel’s shtick
I’m mired!—could ‘Nineties’ tunes spark meee?

So, and as I watched Cobain on stage
Teen Spirit smelled like Foley’s page
No Mambo Numbered Five
Could slow my prose nose-dive
And as our Boyz II Men transmogrified
The Macarena spread world-wide
I saw Satan shimmy-bop in stride
Sashayin’ Jekyll’d Hyde!

He was singing…
“My, my, lyric-stammerin’ guy.”
“As with Woody and young Soon Yi
memory’s turned a blind eye.”
“You’ve one last shot—‘Two Thousands’—give it a try—
Just sing *three* songs right—I’ll rehab your mind…
Flub it—it’s Beelze-club time!”

Found Charlie Daniels—steeped in booze
And I asked him ‘bout the Devil’s ruse
In Georgia when he won that day
He spat and said, “I’ve done enough”
“Go and ask Def, Don, Dre, Dolls or Duff”
But their posies all turned me clean away


So, rec-o-llectables I sought
From Abba’s fluff through old ZZ Top
When suddenly it hit me—
I’m *so* n’synch with Britney!
And her three songs I admire most—
‘What Baby?’, ‘Oops!’ and then ‘Baby Ghost’
I aced in canticled riposte
That day—the Devil cried

He kept his bargain…

Spry, I - am rememberin’ ‘Pie’!
Uzi chatt’rin’ Tupac’s patt’rin’
That’s me rappin’ it ‘fly’
And them ‘Elements’ of Leherer’s—deftly supplied!
Then through ‘Wreck o’ Edmund Fitzy’ I’ll glide
Quicker than that light-footed guy

Bravo, Britney!

[Tutti cognoscenti:]
Bye-bye, Miss American Shy
Chan’lin’ Whitney, limo’d Britney
Caught the Paparraz-eye
Her bald-faced truth’s revealed in blinks-of-a-thigh—
Schwingin’ “Hip-hop hip hooray for Spear’s Pie!”

~~~ CIRCA, AD & CÛM FINÉ ~~~

(Et al., heh, heh!)


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