​

 

I tried fancy shirts and double-knit suits with weird designs

French colognes and Princess phones and fine imported wine

Diamonds, jewels and power tools, on TV they work all right

I used gums ’n’ mints and wheat germ rinse but I’m still alone at night

 

None of that stuff really works, they must think that we’re all jerks

Patience is a virtue but y’know I just can’t wait

There’s plenty of fish out in the sea but I’m running out of bait

 

​

GETTING UP BRINGS ME DOWN

I’ve done it five times a week for just about 25 years, That’s 6500 times

But I just can’t get used to getting out of bed before noon. That’s a personal hangup of mine

 

I get hit by those morning rays, I’m in a stupefied hypnotic daze

I’m as unhappy as I can possibly be. My idea of heaven

Is sleeping till 11 and then taking a nap at 3

​

’Cause getting up just brings me down

You better heed this warning: Don’t go near me in the morning

When I get in to work late, my boss shakes his head and frowns

But I tell him, “Getting up brings me down”

​

It started off in nursery school, I’d always pray for snow

So I wouldn’t have to break my restful peace

I’d curse at my mother while she wrestled off the covers And threatened to call the police

Now I’m almost 25, very glad to be alive but if I had my way

I wouldn’t walk out that door unless my job was 12 to 4, Working every other day (chorus)

​

I don’t care what the people say. I like to spend my time snoozin’ away.

It’s my personal taste, it’s my life to waste any way that I want

 

I’d do anything for a little more sleep Like praise the Lord or counting sheep

I’d get down on my knees. ’Cause when I leave that blissful rack

I never stop thinking ’bout going back And catching a few more Zs (chorus)

​

​

COSMIC GARBAGEMAN RAG

If you take a trip on a rocket ship some warm September day

All you’d see is garbage messing up our Milky Way

Now scientists are curious folks but you’d think they had enough

They shoot this stuff out into space but no one cleans it up

​

Loose antennas, floatin’ wires, burned out engines, lunar tires

I’m the one who picks it up in my cosmic garbage truck

Solar panels, busted sockets, wayward capsules, retro rockets

The man with the can, I’m your cosmic garbageman

 

Late next month I’m off to the moon, it’s really such a drag

Gotta put all that Apollo crap in a great big plastic bag

Fill that bag up to the top, use a cable for a tie

Toss it back down to earth watch it burn up in the sky

​

Being a cosmic garbageman, I really can’t complain

It’s always nice and quiet, and there’s never any rain

The pay is good, the hours ain’t bad, got a pension plan to boot

I really don’t mind the meteorites but it’s too far to commute

 

We’re traveling places nowadays beyond man’s wildest dreams

But no matter where you go in life, someone’s gotta clean

​

​

MUSTANG MANIA

We don’t care what the schedule says

We’re gonna go right out and bust some heads

The scouting reports are sure to attest:

We’re the toughest darn team in the whole Southwest

​

We’re the SMU Mustang men, we’re gonna win some games

But we won’t say when. Our greatest heights are yet to be known

We’ve got all the coaches worried, even our own

​

Mustang Mania, it’s goin’ around all over town. Ol’ SMU is starting to roll

Better head down to the Cotton Bowl

Mustang Mania, it’s in the air, it’s everywhere

If you got the luck and you got the knack, you can be a Mustang Maniac

​

Ford can throw, Tolbert can fly

Coach Meyer knows how and sometimes why

With our kind of line, look out for the backs

And Putt Choate’ll stop ’em dead in their tracks

​

​

BLASTED IN THE BLEACHERS

Walkin’ down to Jersey Street  on a scorching summer day
Heading off to Fenway Park, that’s where the Red Sox play
The clock in Kenmore Square says almost 2
We’re gonna sit way out in center field and this is what we’ll do 

Let’s go get blasted in the bleachers, act insane
The sun, some beer and all those people. We can even watch the game
I don’t need no runs or hits just a six pack of Schlitz
Win or lose, we’ll feel the same, it’s only a game

​

The stands are filling up and baby so am I. The batter hits a grounder but I’m flying high

There’s a double play, a stolen base, a fastball up and in

And the batter he breaks his bat. I’ll drink to that

 

Don’t say we ain’t good fans, we even clean up our cans

When the seventh inning stretch comes, we try to stand up

We’re always nice and friendly and never throw our cups

 

The bases are loaded and so am I. There’s a screamin’ line drive and I can hear it cry

There’s a close play out at third, the coach jumps up and down

And yells like a spoiled brat. I’ll drink to that

 

​

ONE DAY ON THE GAS LINE

I called in sick to the office that day. I grabbed my coat and hat

And I was on my way. Took some food and drink, and a good cigar

And set out to gas up my car

 

Those damn old gas lines ain’t getting any shorter

This one was backed up a mile and a quarter

I found a spot and pulled in line

And then I took a gander at what was behind

 

It was a blue Chevy II, one look at her and my heart fell through

I smiled in my mirror and looked up above. from that moment on I knew it was love

I looked back at her and I had this dream: If we could ride together, we could save some gasoline

 

I waited on line till half past two, Read the daily newspaper four times through

I was still in my car at a quarter to nine when a man came out

And put up a sign: “No more gasoline today”

​

I don’t take things like that lyin’ down So instead of driving back into town

I lit up a smoke And decided to stay. I’d be first on line the very next day

I walked back to her Chevy and said with a smile, “Looks like we’re gonna be here for a while.

Would you like to come back to my car and you might Even consider spending the night.”

​

Well, she said yes, we had a grand old time. we ordered a pizza and sipped on some wine

We drank and talked on into the night. She fell asleep on my shoulder and I held her tight

​

I was still on line the very next morn When I was rudely awakened by the blare of a horn

“Get moving pal,” the policeman yelled. The station was open, gasoline was on sale

​

So I filled up my gas tank, I was still a bit drunk And I filled an old waterbed I had in the trunk

Filled up the ash trays, put some in the spare. I had stars in my eyes and nary a care

 

I was feeling real good, it was a beautiful day. Then I saw that blue Chevy peeling away

I screamed and I shouted, but she just drove along. Then I said a few  things I can’t repeat in this song

​

My heart had been shattered like a dropped piece of glass, Now I think of that girl every time I buy gas

I don’t suppose I’ll ever see her again. she’s left me here to sing in vain