Bald Man’s Blues

A pickin’ and a grinner

I was having a bad hair day
And for me that wasn’t easy
All my hair had gone away
And my head was feeling breezy

It was a big bad thing
When my head went lean
It was a big bad dream
When my hair left the scene

Once a shaker and a mover
Now two strands for a leftover
My hair’s nothing but a loser
And not much for a combover

It was a big bad thing
When my head went lean
It was a big bad dream
When my hair left the scene

All my bats were in the belfry
The top of my head was thin
Pulled down by Old Man Gravity
My hair took it on the chin.

It was a big bad thing
When my head went lean
It was a big bad dream
When my hair left the scene

Flood

In the wake of the coming tide
We’re gonna build ourselves a boat
Bring on the beasties two by two
The ones who can’t swim or float

Put our house on the marketplace
Sell our yard and all our stuff
Head on out for the open seas
Of violent moons and oceans rough

We’ll wait for the calmly waters
To play our games and drink our wine
Sing our songs and pray our prayers
Forty days and forty nights time

When the waters they recede
We’ll step on land with a whirl
Through the gates of paradise
Oh, my gosh. It’s Disney World

Our Mother’s Dying

Our Mother is dying.
Why aren’t we trying
To live the answer
That’ll heal her cancer?

The disease is a rout,
Her hair’s falling out;
Her colors up and gone,
Her breath almost to none,

Her blue eyes a gray,
Her smile’s slipped away,
And soon she will cease.
May the planet rest in peace.

Then we’ll say a eulogy,
Offer an apology
On that day soon to come
When her beauty’s all gone:

For her dulling colors,
Her polluted waters,
Her forests now dust,
And her air turned to rust.

Her hills won’t be green,
No robins to sing,
The whales dead and beached,
And oceans smell of stench.

Then we’ll send our request
And give it our best,
A prayer for a world
Uncluttered and spoiled.

“No thanks,” God will answer,
“You caused the cancer.
While racing for the stars,
You turned the Earth into Mars.

And tried for all its worth
To turn Mars into Earth.”
And this from God above,
“I gave you one planet to love.”

We’re working things out

A pickin’ and grinnin’ lyric for National Poetry Month

Off to Philadelphia, P A
They drove for twenty-four hours a day.
They hoped hard times had stayed their stay
But the hard times followed them anyway.
I’m still with Tommy, she says to me
We’re working things out.
Sure, he can’t hold a job, she says to me.
We’re still working things out.

He had seven jobs in seven days
And he has an eighth on the way.
He needs to get his act ready for play.
Just give him some time. It’ll be any day.
I’m still with Tommy, she says to me
We’re working things out.
Sure, he can’t hold a job, she says to me.
We’re still working things out.

It’s not that he’s lazy or that he drinks.
He’s in need of a little leeway.
It’s taking some time to work out the kinks.
He keeps hoping things will work out okay.
I’m still with Tommy, she says to me
We’re working things out.
Sure, he can’t hold a job, she says to me.
We’re still working things out.

Superbowl Blues

In memory of Superbowls of yesteryear.

We don’t watch the Superbowl for the plays.
We don’t watch it for the ads for cars.
We only want to see another day
When Janet Jackson’s thirty-twos were a star.

It was a tragic turn of events
When Justin Timberlake left his prints
On Ms. Jackson’s thirty-twos.
It made all the evening news.

We may not remember the game
But nothing ever will be the same
When Justin’s hands made history.
That day Janet lost her mystery.

It was another bust the next year
Katy Perry wouldn’t drop her gear
Lenny Kravitz’s hands were tied
On his guitar they did reside.

So we may have to wait till next year
To rah rah rah and to cheer
Till then we’ll review the video
When Janet’s thirty-twos were a star.

We don’t watch the Superbowl for the plays.
We don’t watch it for the ads for cars.
We only want to see another day
When Janet Jackson’s thirty-twos were a star.