old lyrics that could have been written today

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Meffy wrote: Image
Groucho Marx performed / Harold Arlen and E.Y. Harburg wrote:[speaking]
My life was wrapped around the circus. Her name was Lydia. I met her at the World's Fair in 1900... marked down from 1940.

Ah, Lydia! She was the most glorious creature under the suuunnnn. Guiess -- DuBarry -- Garbo, rolled into one.

[singing]
Oooooooh...
Lydia, oh Lydia, say have you met Lydia?
Lydia the Tattooed Lady.
She has eyes that folks adore so,
And a torso even more so.

Lydia, oh Lydia, that encyclopidia,
Oh, Lydia the Queen of Tattoo.

On her back is the Battle of Waterloo.
Beside it the wreck of the Hesperus, too.
And proudly above waves the Red, White, and Blue,
You can leaaaaarn a lot from Lydia.

La la la, la la la, la la la, la la la...

When her robe is unfurled, she will show you the world,
If you step up and tell her where.
For a dime you can see Kankakee or Paree,
Or Washington crossing the Delaware.

La la la, la la la, la la la, la la la

Oh Lydia, oh Lydia, say have you met Lydia,
Oh, Lydia the Tattooed Lady
When her muscles start relaxin',
Up the hill comes Andrew Jackson!

Lydia, oh Lydia, that encyclopidia,
Oh, Lydia the queen of them all!

For two bits she will do a mazurka in jazz,
With a view of Niagara that nobody has.
And on a clear day you can see Alcatraaaaz --
You can learn a lot from Lydia.

La la la, la la la, la la la, la la la

Come along and see Buff'lo Bill with his lasso --
Just a little classic by Mendel Picasso.
Here is Captain Spaulding exploring the Amazon;
Here's Godiva but with her pajamas on.

La la la, la la la, la la la, la la la!

Here's Grover Whalen unveilin' the Trylon;
Over on the West Coast we have Treasure Island.
Here is Nijinsky a-doin' the rhumba...
Here's her social security numba.

[whistles]
La la la, la la la, la la la, la la la...

Oh Lydia, oh Lydia, that encyclopidia!
Lydia, the champ of them all.

She once swept an Admiral clear off his feet
(The ships on her hips made his heart skip a beat)...
And now the old boy's in command of the fleet,
For he weeeent and married Lydia!

I said Lydiaaa...
{He said Lydia!}
They said Lydia...
{We said Lydiaaaa!}
La La!
And now the hours go by fast
And memories come from the past
As he tells the girl the story of his life
You see a long long time ago
He fell in love, but let her go
And if he had the chance again, she'd be his wife
And he sings to her nightly, he says

Lydia, oh Lydia, I wish I didn't get ridda ya
Lydia I miss your rose tatoo
There's some things I can't forget
Oh hunny why did I dis ya? (you can learn alot from Lydia)
I gotta move it like this

Aaahhhhhhh (hold me, squeeze me)
Aaahhhhhhh
Aaahhhhhhh (hold me, squeeze me)
Aaahhhhhhh

..................................K7
Image

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this pere ubu track always makes me think of KVR, 'specially the highlighted section:

We have the technology.

How I wish we could take this moment & freeze it;
to come back to it again & again;
to hold it to the light;
to turn it in our hands;
to study all the angles;
to find out how & why it's gotta go the way that it goes
We have the technology not available before
We have the technology

Thinkers and poets of the past,
they had to leap into the dark so blindly,
whereas we'll stand free and upright like men...
The day's golden light!
Linked with our machines our eyes are beaming
It won't matter at all how weird things are seeming
We have the technology not available before
We have the technology


We need the means to dig deeper;
to search below the surface appearance of things...
Worlds never dreamed of!
Oh, what a wonderful life if, darlin, that moment might be found wherein we come unstuck so completely:
Flap A from Slot B,
slappin in the wind!
We have the technology not available before
We have the technology

Writers:
Cutler-Jones-Krauss-Maimone-Ravenstine-Thomas
©1988 PolyGram Music Publishing Ltd (ROW),
Songs of PolyGram Intl., Inc. (US/Can)
Lyrics by David Thomas

regards

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"Meet the new boss
Same as the old boss"

"Space-age couple
Why don't you flex your magic muscle?
Space-age couple
Why do you hex your magic muscle?
Space-age couple
Why do you hustle 'n bustle?
Why don't you drop your cool tom-foolery
'n shed your nasty jewelry?
Cultivate the grounds
They're the only ones around.
Space-age couple
Why don't you flex your magic muscle?
Hold a drinking glass up t' your eye after you've
Scooped up a little of the sky
'n it ain't blue no more.
What's on the leaves ain't dew no more.
Space-age couple
Why don't you jus' do that?
Why don't you jus' do that?"

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Al Stewart
Laughing Into 1939
Party hat and satin dress
Silver paper curled in her long black hair
Tapping one small elegant shoe in time
Oh, the way she plays with them
Smile at one, then dance with another
Pretty soon they're forming up a line
And she's laughing, laughing into 1939
Oh, laughing, laughing into 1939

Oh, the party draws them in
It breathes and moves
To a life its own
In its arms it's gathering all time
From the dark he watches her
Moving in and out of the bobbing crowd
If she even notices, she gives no sign
And she's laughing, laughing into 1939
Oh, laughing, laughing into 1939

For tonight is New Year's Eve
Uncork your spirits and welcome it in
Who knows what it's got up its sleeve
Can't wait for it all to begin
Stand by the girl with the purple balloon
The look in her eyes just lights up the room
In the corner of her smile
She'll be seeing you soon
Under a mistletoe moon

Out on to the balcony
Come the King and Queen
And the crowd go wild
He's a little bit nervous
But that's just fine
And they're laughing, laughing into 1939
Oh, laughing, laughing into 1939
The Clash
Guns Of Brixton
When they kick out your front door
How you gonna come?
With your hands on your head
Or on the trigger of your gun

When the law break in
How you gonna go?
Shot down on the pavement
Or waiting on death row

You can crush us
You can bruise us
But you'll have to answer to
Oh, the guns of Brixton

The money feels good
And your life you like it well
But surely your time will come
As in heaven, as in hell

You see, he feels like Ivan
Born under the Brixton sun
His game is called survivin'
At the end of the harder they come

You know it means no mercy
They caught him with a gun
No need for the Black Maria
Goodbye to the Brixton sun

You can crush us
You can bruise us
But you'll have to answer to
But oh-the guns of Brixton

When they kick out your front door
How you gonna come?
With your hands on your head
Or on the trigger of your gun

You can crush us
You can bruise us
And even shoot us
But oh- the guns of Brixton

Shot down on the pavement
Waiting in death row
His game is called survivin'
As in heaven as in hell

You can crush us
You can bruise us
But you'll have to answer to
Oh, the guns of Brixton
Just replace "1939" with "2006" and "Brixton" with wherever you live.

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Image

Not a lyric but a poem. Morton Subotnick's powerfully tragic piece for Buchla, "The Wild Bull," was inspired by a poem written 3700 years ago, apparently the lament of a soldier's widow.

Think of this, the power of ideas to transcend time and change: The clay tablets into which these Sumerian cuneiform lines were pressed thirty-seven centuries ago survive to this day, and the words on them speak just as strongly.

Through all those millennia, the experience the poet described has changed in detail but not in essence. By the thousands, widows and widowers still weep for their mates who will never return.

"So it goes." -- Vonnegut
THE WILD BULL

Sumerian, c.1700 B.C. - translated by Thorkild Jacobsen

From "Most Ancient Verse", published by the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago

The wild bull, who has lain down, lives no more,
The wild bull, who has lain down, lives no more,
Dumuzi, The wild bull, who has lain down, lives no more,
The wild bull, who has lain down, lives no more.

O you wild bull, how fast you sleep!
How fast sleep ewe and lamb!
O you wild bull, how fast you sleep!
How fast sleep goat and kid!

I will ask the hills and the valleys,
I will ask the hills of the Bison:
"Where is the young man, my husband?"
I will say,
"He whom I no longer serve food"
I will say,
"He whom I no longer give to drink"
I will say,
"And my lovely maids"
I will say,
"And my lovely young men?"

"The Bison has taken thy husband away,
up into the mountains!"
"The Bison has taken thy young man away,
up into the mountains!"

"Bison of the mountains, with the mottled eyes!
Bison of the mountains, with the crushing teeth!
Bison! - He sleeps sweetly, he sleeps sweetly,
He whom I no longer serve food sleeps sweetly,
He whom I no longer give to drink sleeps sweetly,
My lovely maids sleep sweetly,
My lovely young men sleep sweetly!"

"My young man who perished from me
(at the hands of) your men,
"My young Ababa who perished from me
(at the hands of) your men,
Will never more calm me (with) his loving glance
Will never more unfasten his lovely bright clasp (at night)
On his couch you made the jackals lie down,
In my husband's fold you made the raven dwell,
His reed pipe - the wind plays it,
My husband's songs - the north wind sings them."

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Lots by Hawkwind (Sword of the East, Hassan I Sahba, Urban Guerilla...I could be sad and go on), but especially Living on a Knife Edge:

Everytime I go out,
I think I'm bring checked out,
Faceless people watching on a TV screen
Do you begin to sense it,
Just beneath the surface
Reflections of a window
Whilst walking down the street
Computers are abused,
School records are fed
Police are checking on what you said
The number of your car's fed into a box
Your journey's being checked,
It's a paradox
Duplicate forms, and ID cards
Are next in line to disregard

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"Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday dear..."

can't remember how the rest of it goes.

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clueless wrote:"Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday dear..."
can't remember how the rest of it goes.
balding and memory loss ...

... old age hitting you hard there eh ???

slainte :lol: rob

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MASTERS OF WAR by BOB DYLAN (1963)

Come you masters of war
You that build all the guns
You that build the death planes
You that build the big bombs
You that hide behind walls
You that hide behind desks
I just want you to know
I can see through your masks

You that never done nothin'
But build to destroy
You play with my world
Like it's your little toy
You put a gun in my hand
And you hide from my eyes
And you turn and run farther
When the fast bullets fly

Like Judas of old
You lie and deceive
A world war can be won
You want me to believe
But I see through your eyes
And I see through your brain
Like I see through the water
That runs down my drain

You fasten the triggers
For the others to fire
Then you set back and watch
When the death count gets higher
You hide in your mansion
As young people's blood
Flows out of their bodies
And is buried in the mud

You've thrown the worst fear
That can ever be hurled
Fear to bring children
Into the world
For threatening my baby
Unborn and unnamed
You ain't worth the blood
That runs in your veins

How much do I know
To talk out of turn
You might say that I'm young
You might say I'm unlearned
But there's one thing I know
Though I'm younger than you
Even Jesus would never
Forgive what you do

Let me ask you one question
Is your money that good
Will it buy you forgiveness
Do you think that it could
I think you will find
When your death takes its toll
All the money you made
Will never buy back your soul

And I hope that you die
And your death'll come soon
I will follow your casket
In the pale afternoon
And I'll watch while you're lowered
Down to your deathbed
And I'll stand o'er your grave
'Til I'm sure that you're dead
The source of light is darkness

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Didn't Phil Ochs write this one? Good choice either way diversheat!
There is geometry in the humming of the strings, there is music in the spacing of the spheres. Pythagoras

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All the Dead Kennedy's lyrics. Still relevent, some even more than before!

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pHz wrote:... old age hitting you hard there eh ???
nonsense, I'm beautifully pickled.

give it a few years rob...

:hihi:

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The lunatic is on the grass.
The lunatic is on the grass.
Remembering games and daisy chains and laughs.
Got to keep the loonies on the path.

The lunatic is in the hall.
The lunatics are in my hall.
The paper holds their folded faces to the floor
And every day the paper boy brings more.

And if the dam breaks open many years too soon
And if there is no room upon the hill
And if your head explodes with dark forebodings too
I'll see you on the dark side of the moon.

The lunatic is in my head.
The lunatic is in my head
You raise the blade, you make the change
You re-arrange me 'til I'm sane.
You lock the door
And throw away the key
There's someone in my head but it's not me.

And if the cloud bursts, thunder in your ear
You shout and no one seems to hear.
And if the band you're in starts playing different tunes
I'll see you on the dark side of the moon.

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orangesuite wrote:All the Dead Kennedy's lyrics. Still relevent, some even more than before!
I dunno... Holiday In Cambodia seems a bit dated these days.
"Duct tape is like the force. It has a light side, a dark side, and it holds the universe together...." -Carl Zwanzig

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(*sings lyrics to "Hocus Pocus" by Focus*)

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