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Let’s Trade Butts Give Yourself A Hand
Eulogy Erica Levine (Bob Blue)
Gone For Good I Hope You Understand Dear
Chickens For Peace The Hug (Fred Small)
LIFELINE
You carried me, home in your arms
You loved me so much, and you kept me from harm
You washed me and fed me, the years how they flew
And now you need my help, and I’ll care for you!
There’s a lifeline that ties me to you
Life rolls like a wheel through whatever we do
Through all of the hard times and anger we feel
The love that we have, well it helps us to heal
Love’s a lifeline that pulls us all through!
You’ve no where to go, and you don’t like to lean
At the old people’s home, they’re packed in like sardines,
So the baby can sleep in the crib one more year
Put the kids in together, there’s room for you here!
There’s a lifeline that ties me to you
Overnight power runs out the holes in our shoes
When the looking glass flips, there’s no wrong or right
Do the best we can and hold hands in the fight
Love’s a lifeline that pulls us all through!
Most of the time now, you’re clear as a bell
But the body you’re using’s not working so well
And I know we get crazy when our patience is gone
Hey, ain’t it amazing, how we hold on,
To that lifeline that ties me to you
Life rolls like a wheel through whatever we do
Through all of the hard times and anger we feel
The love that we have, well it helps us to heal
Love’s a lifeline that pulls us all through!
Written by Peter Alsop, ©1983, Moose School Music (BMI)
LET’S TRADE BUTTS!
Let’s trade butts! Let’s trade butts!
Let’s trade butts! Let’s trade butts!
If you don’t like the one you got!
Let’s trade, ‘cause I like yours alot!
I want to try a diff’rent kind!
An’ I like yours, do you like mine!?
Let’s trade, Butts!
Everybody else looks great!
But my butt’s only second-rate!
I’ll hang yours down below my back!
I need a new one, this one’s cracked!
I wash mine ev’ry time I shower!
So hey! Let’s swap ‘em for one hour!
Yo! Let’s test drive ‘em for a week!
Then we can turn the other cheek!
I’ve looked around in lots of stores!
They’re hard to find, those butts like yours!
It looks brand new, don’t you sit down?
Mine’s broken in, it’s been around!
Let’s, Trade, Butts!
So when I try yours on for size!
My friends will not believe their eyes!
They’ll look and say “Where’d you get that!”
Hey! Tradin’ butts is where it’s at!
Yeah, some butts skinny, some butts fat,
But tradin’ butts is where it’s at!
I learned alot from tradin’ butts!
If you don’t like your own, you’re nuts!
Written by Peter Alsop, © 1985, Moose School Music (BMI)
MR. D
I am Mr. D, what I say is true
Ev’rything changes constantly
So do the best you can do!
Cat-e-pillar crawls
Into her cocoon, “Good-bye!”
Ev’rything changes, yessiree!
Now she’s a butterfly!
This is number one
Ev’rything changes under the sun
So take some chances, have some fun
Do the best you can do!
Chorus
Stick your hand in the cookie jar
Take a big handful, ‘n you get stuck!
Y’better let go or y’won’t get one
You’ll be out of luck!
This is number two
Don’t hold on too tight
Sometimes y’gotta let go
Just t’make it through this life!
Chorus
Some folks think I’m scary
Big and mean and hairy!
But life is temporary
My message is clear
Check it out, before you check out of here!
Now let’s suppose that no one died
No one worried, and no one cried
Then there wouldn’t be no reason to try
To do the best you can do!
This is number three
It’s not how long you can survive
It’s how you live when you’re alive
So do the best you can do!!
Meet me at the rainbow’s end
Fill your life with love, my friend
Real love will never end
It’s the best we can do!
Love’s the best, we can do!
Written by Peter Alsop, ©1984, Moose School Music (BMI)
EULOGY
What can I say?
It’s really been fine
You gave me so much
In such a short time
And your laughter still melts me
And your smile makes me cry
And I’m sure gonna miss you,
Good-bye!
I’m angry with you
Cause you just left me here
Though you loved me, I know,
You were so straight and clear
And I feel like I’m dreaming
Hold my hand through the night
And I’ll never forget you
And I’m scared that I might.
You groaned at my jokes
And you laughed at my songs
You made-up great excuses
When I did things wrong
And when you went away
You’d ask me along,
Except for this last time,
So long
Filled to the brim
Filled to my eyes
Your heart and mine
You’ll always be with me
And I’ll see you sometime!
Written by Peter Alsop, © 1985, Moose School Music (BMI)
GONE FOR GOOD
An old brown cow was sittin’
In her pasture eating grass
When she looked down at the ground
She saw a black bug walkin’ past.
She watched him push and struggle
With that little twig he’d found
Then she raised her hoof and mashed that bug,
(SQUISH!) Into the ground!
I can’t find a reason
Why some of us must die
And others live and feel bad,
Maybe God knows why,
But I can’t find a reason,
If I only understood,
Then I wouldn’t be so angry,
Hey! That bug (cow) is gone for good!!
(Last time: When you’re gone, you’re gone for good!)
Well later in the afternoon
That cow went home to eat
And the Farmer packed her friends and her
Into a truck out on the street
He’d decided to quit milkin’ cows
And start t’raisin’ ducks
Well Old MacDonald had a cow,
Now she’s a Cheeseburger Deluxe!
Chorus
Now Old MacDonald choked to death
On one hard-boiled duck egg
And the duck who laid it ended up
As “Roasted Duck With Nutmeg!”
And the chef who roasted up that duck
Stepped on an avocado
Slipped underneath a tour bus
Bound for southern Colorado!
The driver’s name was Alice
And she didn’t even stop
They caught-up with her in Dallas
Eating pancakes with a cop,
He was a foolish guy named Jerry
Who never carried guns
He’d fed her boysenberry syrup
And he caught her with the runs!
When he took her down to book her
At the nearest precinct house
Well next door there, all the local circus elephants
They got frightened by this mouse,
And they stampeded on the squad car
Didn’t even hurt their feet!
But Jerry, Alice and the car
Were tramped into the street!
And the mouse who scared them elephants
He gave one little shrug,
And two weeks later he died
When he was bitten by a bug
Who was the thirty-second cousin
Of that bug killed by that cow!
If it wasn’t for that bug
Maybe they’d all still be here now!
Chorus
Written by Peter Alsop, © 1985, Moose School Music (BMI)
CHICKENS FOR PEACE
Chickens for peace!
We’re chickens for peace!
And we don’t want to fry!
Chickens for peace!
We’re chickens for peace!
One little war, and we’re chicken-pot-pie!
Chickens for peace!
We’re chickens for peace!
And no one respects, a chicken who begs!
Chickens for peace!
We’re chickens for peace!
One little slip, and we’re hard boiled eggs!
Chickens for peace!
We’re chickens for peace!
But we’re not chicken chickens!
We’re taking a stand!
Chickens for peace!
We’re chickens for peace!
And our chicken spirit
Is sweeping the land!
The doves and the hawks are still fighting
The swans and the ducks are all wet!
But us chickens have all been uniting!
And what chickens want, chickens get!!
We’re chickens for peace!
We’re chickens for peace!
And we will win! We’re not turkeys!
(Or geese!)
We’re chickens for peace!
We’re chickens for peace!
Hold up your beaks and join in!
Cause those bombs make hot water
That will make chicken soup from the grease
Of us chickens, for peace!
Written by Peter Alsop, ©1985 Moose School Music (BMI)
WHEN ONE IS TOO MANY
One drink, one smoke, one snort of coke
A sugar slip, hey, a mainline trip
Are you sick and tired of feeling sick and tired?
My friend, I know you know what’s required!
When one is too many, and a thousand ain’t enough,
You cannot do any, hey, you got to get tough!
When one is too many, and a thousand ain’t enough,
You cannot do any, hey, you got to get tough!
I used to love to go get tight
With all my friends, we could dance all night,
But we take too much, and before too long
We start to fighting, man, you know something’s wrong!
Chorus
We love too much, we try to please,
But sometimes life brings us to our knees
So we hide the hurt, the way we know
We got to learn some other way to go!
Chorus
So take a cold shower, make you do a little dance!
Call a friend who knows you and give yourself a chance
Or you could ask your Higher Power t’get you back on track
Get that kid inside t’help y’bounce that monkey off your back!!
Chorus
[Old last verse:]
Or you could grab your partner, go hop in the sack
Yeah, make crazy love and bounce that monkey off your back!
I changed this when I understood that I was encouraging a switch from one medicating addiction (alcohol & other drugs) to another (sex) neither of which help a person heal the source of their pain.
Written by Peter Alsop, ©1984, Moose School Music (BMI)
GIVE YOURSELF A HAND
Give yourself a hand, give yourself a hand
You say it’s not your fault so it’s got to be your glands!
Give yourself a hand, give yourself a hand
Give us all a break and give yourself a hand!
You act like you’ve been,
Deserted on an island all alone for years
With no one there to scratch your back
Or rub behind your ears
So you act like you’re in heat
Drowning in testosterone
And ev’ry conversation
Takes on sexual overtones
And your fingers indiscreetly
With no conscience of their own
Go creeping here and there
Acting quite unchaperoned
Your starving, leering, lechy eyes
Pursue her ev’ry move,
Drooling, searching for her thighs
Or the bounce of her ba-zoom!
It’s so tedious, exhausting
Unnecessary and,
Easily cured and remedied,
This plague of modern man!! Just,
Chorus:
(You say you’re at the mercy of your bodily demands!)
So you won the big election
But it’s not your macho crap,
It’s your work, not your erection
That put you on the map!
You’re the Chairman, Captain, Chief
Your title’s on your card
Success once bought relief
But now that’s not the way things are!
Has your mother ever mentioned
Suff’ring gross indignities?
From big men with bent intentions
Do you think that she’d be pleased?
C’mon and join the rest of us
We’re trying hard to change,
The selfish and injurious
Ways that we’ve been trained!
If you’re insecure or scared
You can ask me for support,
If you’re lonely we can talk
But if you’re horny, be a sport, and,
Chorus:
(You say you’re only comfortable when you’re in command!)
This common health phenomenon
Some marriages has saved!
They don’t do “it” down in Washington
Which is why they’re so depraved!
It’s fun and full of rhythm!
You can play to beat the band!
So do yourself a favor!
It’s something you will savor, yes!
Do yourself a favor and
Give yourself a hand!
Chorus:
(You say you’ve no control when your private parts expand!)
We know that riding on the range
Makes a cowpoke real tough,
And seamy, smelly, strange
And all that other manly stuff
Just like football, motorcycle grease
Soldiers, guns and beer,
You’re out to prove that you’re okay
But boy, you’re acting weird!
Have you got a big obsession?
Afraid that you might die?
If your sexual aggression won’t make
Some sweet young thing sigh,
And offer you her hips
And heart and mind and soul?
Do you have to have a power fix
To make you feel whole?
No one else should have to suffer
‘Cause you happen to be strong,
Grow-up and be responsible
For knowing right from wrong, and,
Chorus:
(We will all applaud you when you try hard as you can!)
Give us all a break and we’ll give you a hand!!
Written by Peter Alsop, ©1985, Moose School Music, (BMI)
MY FATHER’S TOP DRAWER
As a child I was blessed with a curious mind
And a sleepy, incompetent nurse!
One day I discovered my father’s top drawer,
Where I found my old man was perverse!
It’s a wonder I turned out as well as I did
I’m not nearly as warped as before
I’m not sick, God forbid! I was only a kid,
Who grew up in his father’s top drawer!
Devices and diagrams, naked toy dolls,
There were magazines and pictures and cards!
And a pen with a lady, when turned upside-down
Who discarded her black leotards!
It was scary to find what my Dad had on his mind!
And the feelings that came over me!
I tried hard to stay calm, but how could I tell Mom,
His disease was hereditary!!
It’s a wonder I turned out as well as I did
Readjustment is really a chore!
I found Pandora’s box there, under his socks,
When I opened my father’s top drawer!
A hotwater bottle with buttocks and breasts,
An amazing assortment of smut
That pornography there under his underwear
Got me into this sexual rut!
I grew older and brought home all my friends,
We’d sneak in and spend long afternoons!
And I never got caught, thought I think my Dad knew
I was selling them his long white balloons!!
It’s a wonder I turned out as well as I did
Now I’m older and I know the score!
I’ve got kids of my own, who’ll be pure when they’re grown,
Cause there’s a lock on their father’s top drawer!!
Written by Peter Alsop, ©1985, Moose School Music, (BMI)
ERICA LEVINE
by Bob Blue
When Erica Levine was seven and ahalf
Up to her door came Jason Metcalf
And he said “Will ya marry me, Erica Levine?”
And Erica Levine said “What do you mean?”
“Well my mother and my father say a fellow ought to marry,
And my father says his brother, who is my Uncle Larry,
Never married, and he said Uncle Larry is a dope,
So will ya marry me?”, said Erica, “Nope!”
“Cause my piano teacher’s smart and she never had to marry
And your father may be right about your Uncle Larry,
But not being married’s not what made him a dope,
So don’t ask me again, cause the answer’s still nope!”
When Erica Levine was seventeen
She went to the prom with Joel Bernstein
And they danced til twelve and they talked til one
And Erica thought “Gee, this is fun!”
And on the way home Joel kissed her at the door
And he said “Do you know what that kiss is for?”
She said “No I don’t, but you kiss just fine!”
He said “What it means is that you are mine!”
And she said “No I’m not!” and she ran inside,
And on the way home Joel Bernstein cried
She cried too, and wrote a letter to Ms.
Saying “One thing I know is I’m mine, not his!”
When Erica Levine was twenty-three
Her lover said “Erica, marry me!
This relationship is answering a basic need,
And I’d like to have it legally guaranteed!
For without your perfect love, I would surely die!
So why don’t we make it legal?” said Erica, “Why?”
Basic needs at your age should be met by you,
I’m your lover, not your mother, let’s be careful what we do!
For if I ever marry, I will marry to grow
Not for position, nor protection, nor possession, no.
I love you, but your needs are a very different issue”
Then he cried and Erica handed him a tissue!
When Erica was forty she was talking to Lou
Discussing and deciding what they wanted to do
When we marry shall we move into your place or mine?
Yours is rent controlled, but mine is on the bus line
So they argued and they talked and they finally didn’t care
And they joined a tenants’ union down near Central Square
The wedding was a simple one, they wanted it that way
They’d thought a lot about the things they wanted to say
“I will live with you and love you, but I’ll never call you mine”
Then the judge pronounced them married, and everyone drank wine
A happy-ever-after life was not the sort they got,
But they tended to be happy more often than not!
Written by Bob Blue, ©1981, Bob Blue
I HOPE YOU UNDERSTAND DEAR
For years I’ve been watchin’ folks on the T.V.
Sometimes it seemed they were more real than me
Then I met you computer, you wanted my touch
Y’gave me the ‘control’ that I needed so much!
I hope you understand Dear, you’ll forgive me, I know
Y’follow every ‘command’ Dear, but I’m going back home!
There was something attractive ‘bout your organized mind
I turned you on and our lives intertwined
I spent so much time sittin’, just gazing at you
That my wife, she suspected and my kids, they did too!
Well we didn’t try t’hide it, we started ‘scrollin’ around
We’d go out on ‘datas’ and you’d never ‘go down’
So I knew you meant business, that you weren’t the cheap kind
But I need some body, Darlin’, not just some mind!!
My wife and kids miss me, ‘n heck, you never smile,
So I’m goin’ back dear, t’start a new ‘file’!
Now the thrill is all gone, so it’s not worth the risk,
And it’s tough to play games with an old ‘floppy disk’!
I hope you understand Dear, you’ll forgive me, I know
I need someone with hands Dear, so I’m going back home!
But back home in the bedroom, my life was a wreck!
My wife was in bed, with ‘mega-bytes’ on her neck!
‘Warm boots’ in the hall, ‘Wordstars’ in her eyes,
A ‘User-friendly’ computer lyin’ there on her thighs!
(I couldn’t ‘cursor’ for that, so I said,)
I hope you understand Dear, and you’ll forgive me, I know!
Cause this ‘terminal illness’ has been wrecking our home!!!
I hope you understand Dear, cause I love you so much!
So let’s write some new ‘programs’, that’ll keep us in touch!
I hope you understand Dear, and you’ll forgive me, I know!
You’re just right for this man Dear, so I’m comin’ back home!
Written by Peter Alsop, ©1985, Moose School Music (BMI)
THE HUG
by Fred Small
Dan Murrow is a mighty friendly man
Big and round like a bear
And he hugs his friends and his friends hug him
Anytime, anywhere
When his patients come for therapy
To drive their blues away
Sooner or later they feel alot better