I’ve written a bit of poetry in my life.
Unfortunately, poetry and sarcasm don’t go together well.
But songs rhyme, and I especially love silly songs.
My children didn’t get “Rock-a-by Baby.” I taught them songs that were fun.
Grandma’s in the cellar. Lordy can’t you smell ‘er
makin’ biscuits on that durned old dirty stove.
An’ her eye is full of matter that keep dripping in the batter
all the while the (sound of a snort) runs down her nose.
Where, you might ask, did I find a song like that?
In a very old and tattered song book circa 1920’s that I found in a musty second-hand bookstore. There are several renditions, but that’s the one that, as they used to say in the 60’s, “was the most gross.”
In the same book was also this song: Away, away, with rum by gum
We never eat fruitcake because it has rum,
and one little bite turns a man into bum
oh can you imagine a sorrier sight
than a man eating fruitcake until he is tight.
We never eat cookies because they have yeast
and one little bite turns a man into beast
oh can you imagine a worser disgrace
than a man in the gutter with crumbs on his face.
This is the worst video I could find of the song, while not being off-key. Um…actually, there were only two to choose from and this was the least worst.
And who can forget that classic: I’m looking over my dead dog, Rover (sung to the tune of “I’m looking over a 4 Leaf Clover”).
But that was before I had loveable 4-footed companions in my home — and many people who read my blog might not appreciate humor that dark.
I think this is a good time to stop unless someone really, really wants to know the words.
The song is a lot funnier when you’re sitting around a campfire in the middle of the desert with a bunch of people drinking Everclear and fruit punch from a carved out watermelon.
I’m lucky to be alive.