Aw Shucks

Went to a party,
My baby and me.
Half the night later
We left with a plea

Of “Aw shucks.
My baby’s got the hiccups.”

Took my car into
Mr. Fix-em-up.
“Is it bad?” I asked.
“She’s just a pup.”

His retort: “Aw shucks.
Your baby’s got the hiccups.”

My dog got sick.
I wasn’t sure why.
Rushed her to the vet.
He looked me in the eye

and said, “Aw shucks.
This baby’s got the hiccups.”

Bought myself a house.
It was big and green.
Soon there was a leak.
It was unforeseen.

Just another “Aw shucks.
My baby’s got the hiccups.”

My boss called me in
And he let me know
Things were going bad
And I had to go.

He said, “Aw shucks.
The company’s got the hiccups.”

At the Pearly Gates
I stood in line.
Was no place for me.
Just a maybe next time.

‘Cause “Aw shucks.
Heaven’s got the hiccups.

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It’s Spring

Just another lyric without a tune.

Chorus:
There’s only one eight o’clock in the morning
Only one eight a.m. a day
There’s only one Saturday a week
So let the sun wash your blues away

Winter is buried
Now all dead and gone
Goodbye to the cold
That cuts to the bone

Hear rain on the roof
Pitter-pattering
Soon a daisy or two
Sprouts in the green

Chorus:
There’s only one eight o’clock in the morning
Only one eight a.m. a day
There’s only one Saturday a week
So let the sun wash your blues away

Listen to the robins
On a singing streak
Watch butterflies dance
Flowers cheek to cheek

Sparrows come making
Their nests in the trees
With branches spread wide
And lush canopies

Chorus:
There’s only one eight o’clock in the morning
Only one eight a.m. a day
There’s only one Saturday a week
So let the sun wash your blues away

Bridge:
It’s spring
I’m here to tell you
It is spring
So let the light come in

A grey squirrel dashes
Up a back yard oak
A snake slithers by
Frog crosses the porch

Blossoms a-budding
Nature’s calling card
Breathe in the spring air
Crossing the yard

Chorus:
There’s only one eight o’clock in the morning
Only one eight a.m. a day
There’s only one Saturday a week
So let the sun wash your blues away

They bought themselves a boat

Another lyric. Inspired by the movie, “Tempest”.

They bought themselves a boat
They thought they’d sail to the islands
They bought themselves a boat
They thought they’d sail to the islands

Then a storm came along
The boat they’d bought it crashed and sank
Then a storm came along
The boat they’d bought it crashed and sank

The soul is an island
In the deep deep waters
The island is on no map
No gps can find it

They could’ve drowned at sea
Instead they made it to the island
They could’ve drowned at sea
Instead they made it to the island

This island, it was green
A paradise an Eden was
This island, it was green
A paradise an Eden was

The soul is an island
In the deep deep waters
The island is on no map
No gps can find it

If you’re one for sailing
Hire a boat goodly sturdy
If you’re one for sailing
Hire a boat goodly sturdy

So when you hit the storms
Your boat will not be sinking
So when you hit the storms
Your boat will not be sinking

The soul is an island
In the deep deep waters
The island is on no map
No gps can find it

Soon

Another lyric for your enjoyment.

Rigor mortis is setting in
When it does I’ll be stiff as a board
Just another corpus delicti
Part of a great skeleton hoard

Crossing over the River Styx
On I go to another side
Hoping to be one of the picks
Through the Pearly Gates to reside

Soon I’ll be in the grave or bust
Soon I’ll be ashes and rust
Soon I’ll be nothing but dust
Soon I’ll be part of the crust

I’ve done my share of roaming
I’ve got trav’ling shoes to prove it
Picked up a bit of sea and sand
Been to the sunrise and in the pits

Took on the valleys and mountains
Over rainbows and under bridges
Never sure where I was bounding
When I made my jump off the edges

Soon I’ll be in the grave or bust
Soon I’ll be ashes and rust
Soon I’ll be nothing but dust
Soon I’ll be part of the crust

Theme Song for an Itchy Back

A lyric to be sung to the tune of “The Impossible Dream”.

To scratch the impossible itch
To fight that terrible bad twitch
To bear the unbearable thing
To reach for a really hard stretch

To make the unstretchable goal
To feel the relief of the touch
To try when my arms are too short
To reach that unreachable hutch

This is my quest
To go for the spot
No matter how hopeless
No matter the knot

To make the good stretch
Without reason or rhyme
To be willing to make the tear
Of a muscular kind

And I know if I give it the try
To that hard to reach spot
To my back relief will appear
When the bad itch is not

And my body will thank me for this
That one arm, short and almost unhitched
Did move with that one heck of a try
To reach the unbearable itch