Nature

Parody

Classical

Animals

© Copyright 2006, 2015 Peter Lloyd
Produced and performed by Jason Ayers
                          
Summer sun’s a-fadin’ heavy clouds are laden
Rain’s comin’ down every day
Buried deep in slumber, yellow, orange, and umber
August has faded away

Dreary days are comin’ pleasant thoughts succumbin’ 
Winter’s up to stealin’ the light
Chilly breezes speedin’ all the birds a-heedin’ 
September’s last call to take flight

Bye, bye, blue summer sky
Give my love to July

It was laughin’ kids a-runnin’ pretty girls a-sunnin’
Now it’s bundle up and bring out the kites
October’s leaves a-dyin’ November snows a-flyin’
December means the longest of nights

Aw, and January hurts, but February’s worse
‘Till March summons spring from her grave
 April spills her showers, May parades her flowers
June returns the long days we crave

Bye, bye, blue summer sky
Give my love to July

Leave me alone, I’m feelin’ so sad 
I just left the best Summer I ever had

It was neighbors outside talkin’ lovin’ couples walkin’
Now the “Howdy-do”s get stuck my throat
As the bitter winds of winter like a thousand metal splinters 
Cut through the weave of my coat

Bye, bye, blue summer sky
Give my love to July


Leave me alone, I’m fixin’ to cry 
I can’t stand to see such a sweet summer die

                               
Summer sun’s a-fadin’ heavy clouds are laden
Rain’s comin’ down every day
Buried deep in slumber, yellow, orange, and umber
August has faded away

Bye, bye, blue summer sky
Give my love
Give my love
Give my love to July

Give My Love to July

©Copyright 1973, 2015 Peter Lloyd

You can take my shoes, you can drink my soup
I no longer lock my door at night
Here the moon comes up when the sun goes down
And the mountains roll ‘round the thunder clouds
While the river, she winds her way behind

It’s like beautiful, beautiful music
Mellowed in the Appalachian way
Folks come and go, but these mountains kow
That you take a bluegrass tune down to your grave

When Tom Gentry died, I cried and cried
Then one night I heard his voice below the ground
I said, “Oh, Tom, you make such a sweet, bright sound.
Can you tell me, my old partner, what have you found?”
And he sang these words I’m singing to you

It’s like beautiful, beautiful music
Mellowed in the Appalachian way
Folks come and go, but these mountains know
That you take a bluegrass tune down to your grave

When my stories are all told and my bones are cold
And all that’s left is an empty rocking chair
Won’t you wrap me up and carry me down
Cover me over with that sweet, black ground        
And pick a bluegrass tune above my head

It’s like beautiful, beautiful music
Mellowed in the Appalachian way
Folks come and go, but these mountains know
That you take a bluegrass tune down to your grave

Folks come and they go
But these mountains stay right here and they know
That you can take a bluegrass tune down to your grave
Yes, you take them bluegrass tunes down to your grave

Bluegrass Music

In the leafy crown of Northern Argentina
Like a slow-motion ballerina
She climbs, she cries, “Ah-ee! Ah-ee! Ah-ee! Ah-ee! Ah-ee!”
Her plea penetrates the forest, high and low
“Please wrap your limbs around me, only if you have three toes.”
Not so far away, hanging from a tree limb
He hears her cry. She does not see him
He turns her way, hoping this will be his lucky day

Descending in a flurry as quickly as he can, two hundred yards a day He drags himself across the tangled forest floor
She’s waiting patiently for him to reach her
Sloths come from near, they come from far
He’s pulling hard so he can be the first to climb into her tree. He wins! Out of breath from the race, he reduces his pace
Upside-down, they embrace, coupled, dangling in space
Once again face-to-face, all night long they linger, two as one
Too rapt to move a finger, not until the deed is done

In the dreamy, steamy crown of Northern Argentina
He rests, breathing gently in and out like virtuoso-mellowed concertina Bugs and algae call his coat home, he does not mind them
Harpy eagles hunt and jaguars prowl, they’ll never find him
He sleeps eighteen hours a day. Why on earth would he stray?
He’s got insects to eat, buds and leaves for a treat
So contented that he never has to worry where to be
He feels no need to hurry, not until she cries, “Ah-ee!”

Life would be so sweet, hanging by your feet Just like a three-toed sloth
No, he never has to hurry, not until he hears her plea, “Ah-ee!”

Day In The Life Of A Three-toed Sloth

© Copyright 1973, 2022 Victor Harrison and Peter Lloyd

Four little fishies in a red, hot bowl
Two got rhythm and two got soul
When along come a tomcat with bright, white teeth 
Long, sharp claws slippin’ outa they sheath
And he say, “Let me teach you fish how to dance!” Gulp!

Three little fishies in a red, hot bowl
Two got rhythm and one got soul
When up jump the tomcat in one fell swoop 
Takes another helping of that gold fish soup Gulp!
And all of a sudden the soul fishy cries

“Oh I-yi think it's cri-yime! We’re still in our pri-yime
Let’s rock this little pond, roll this little bowl 
Shake the lake while we’ve still got ti-yime”

Two little fishies in a red, hot bowl
One got rhythm and the other got soul
When whoop go the tomcat as quick as a wink 
Scoop some more sole food right outa the drink Gulp!
And all of a sudden the rhythm fish cries

“Oh I-yi think it's cri-yime! We’re still in our pri-yime
Let’s rock this little pond, roll this little bowl 
Shake the lake while we’ve still got ti-yime”

No more fishies in that red, hot bowl
Just one cat left with his tummy full
He’s sufflin’ about just as happy as can be
Singin’ “I got four fish dancin’ rock ‘n’ roll inside of me 

Be bop a shoo be do wha. I do like fish!”

I'm Not From Around Here

Ahdoolak Fish Shuffle

Words © Copyright 2013 Peter Lloyd

Porn free, I no longer use it 
I choose to refuse it
I’m free. No more porn for me

Porn free, I’ve put sleaze behind me 
No need to remind me
I’m clean. No more porn for me

Porn free, I’ve won back my pride now
My windows are open wide
For I’ve no more to hide

Porn free, no more can it shame me 
I’m proud to proclaim me
At long last porn free! 

Porn free, porn free, porn free

Porn Free

Music by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, "Rondo alla Turca," from his Sonata No. 11 K331 for piano, words © Copyright 2007, 2015 Peter Lloyd.

Bedadeedadeep bedadeedadeep bedadeeda deedadeeda deedadeeda deep 
Bada rumpa bada rumpa bada rump bump bum

The Australian lizard known as Skink
Tongue of blue inside a mouth of pink
All of sixty centimeters long
Watch those teeth, his jaw is mighty strong
If he finds a date, spring’s his time to mate
Spends his summers sunnin’ and mornin’s sleepin’ late 
All the winter, deep beneath the leaves he lies in state. 

Bedadeedadeep bedadeedadeep bedadeeda deedadeeda deedadeeda deep 
Bada rumpa bada rumpa bada rump bump bum

Orange and umber with a racing stripe
Skink is not the energetic type
Sleeps alone in hollow, fallen logs
Runs away from hungry cats and dogs
Dingoes will pursue, kookaburras, too
If you get his hackles up, he’ll puff and hiss at you 
But some predators avoid him ‘cuz his tongue is blue

When he runs for his life, he lets his tail drop off behind him 
While his rump feeds his predator, he’s safely on his way 
Skink’s a wise little lizard, doesn’t need us to remind him 
You can lose your behind and live to run another day

Bedadeedadeep bedadeedadeep bedadeeda deedadeeda deedadeeda deep 
Bada rumpa bada rumpa bada rump bump bum

He is not a picky omnivore
Finds his dinner on the forest floor
Snails and beetles, any bug’ll do
Fruits and flowers, he can eat a few
Goes for slower prey, others get away
Likes to snatch his supper in the middle of the day 
To digest it just a bit of gravel works okay

When he runs for his life, he lets his tail drop off behind him 
While his rump feeds his predator, he’s safely on his way 
Skink’s a wise little lizard, needs no wizard to remind him 
You can lose your behind and live to run another day

The Australian lizard known as Skink
Tongue of blue inside a mouth of pink
All of sixty centimeters long
Watch those teeth, his jaw is mighty strong
I don’t make this up, you can call my bluff 
See Tiliqua scincoides intermedia
Go and look him up online in Wikipedia

                              

Skink the Lizard

Words and music © Copyright 2012 Peter Lloyd

When I come back again
Oh, yes, I’ll come back as a cephalopod  
Delicate and long
Butter-smooth and strong
My eight arms treasure you 

In the heat of the night
Oh, yes, I’ll cool you like a cephalopod 
Lazy streams of milk
Light and soft as silk
My eight arms  treasure you 

Close your eyes 
You’ve only care to lose 
Paint your skies 
Any shades you choose

When I come back again
Oh, yes, I’ll come back as a cephalopod  
Delicate and long
Butter-smooth and strong
My eight arms  treasure you 
My eight arms  treasure you

Dream of the Fishermans Wife

© Copyright 2019 Peter Lloyd
Music and original lyrics by Jay Livingston and Ray Evans

When it comes time to tell a lie
I ask the devil, “Who should I see?”
“Should I ask Satan, Gorgo, or Baal?”
Here’s what he says to me

Call Sarah, Sarah
Trumps favorite fork-tongued shill
Her lies give her such a thrill
Call Sarah, Sarah

When I need brazen, boldface lies
I ask the devil, “Who should it be?”
“Shall I call Cheney, Nixon, or Bush?”
Here’s what he says to me

Call Sarah, Sarah
Trumps favorite fork-tongued shill
She lies like a whale eats krill
Call Sarah, Sarah

When you feel forced to tell a lie
Just ask the devil, “What should I do?”
“Shall I call Judas, Barnum or Cain?”
Here’s what he’ll say to you 

Call Sarah, Sarah
Trumps favorite fork-tongued shill
Spreads lies like an oil spill
Call Sarah, Sarah

Call Sarah Sarah

© Copyright 2020 Peter Lloyd, Jerry Leiber, Mike Stoller

Fee-fee, fie-fie, foe-foe, fum
How can one man be so goddamn dumb?

Donald Trump, Donald Trump
What a chump, That Donald Trump
He's gonna get dumped, just you wait and see

"Why's everybody always pickin on me?"

He opens that pie hole right below his nose
Out come lies like a frickin firehose 

Donald Trump, Donald Trump
What a chump, That Donald Trump
He's gonna get dumped, just you wait and see

"Why's everybody always pickin on me?"

Who's driving us right up a wall?
Who doesn't have a pair of balls?
Who's headed for a nasty fall?

Guess who

"Who me?"

Yes, you!

The world's dumbest man and the US president
In a perfect world, would be two different men

Donald Trump, Donald Trump
What a chump, That Donald Trump
He's gonna get dumped, just you wait and see

"Why's everybody always pickin on me?"

The world's dumbest man and the US president
In a perfect world, would be two different men

Donald Trump, Donald Trump
What a chump, That Donald Trump
He's gonna get dumped, just you wait and see

"Why's everybody always pickin on me?"

Donald Chump

Music by Peter Illych Tchaikovsky, Violin Concerto
Words © Copyright 2017 Peter Lloyd

My life is made of dreams
It seems all I do is dream
My dreams are of the life that I
Should have had, could have had, would have had

If life were like my dreams
I’d live all my life with you
Then you and I would see all of my dreams come true
If only, but I only

Dream when I’m alone
And I’m alone nearly all the time
It’s time you be the one I am
Sharing with, caring with, daring with

If you would wake me from
My dreams, oh what a life we’d lead
Just you and I so wide awake
We’d never waste another moment in a dream
No longer would I let my dreams replace life
We would embrace life
If only, but I only dream

I Only Dream

Words © Copyright 1984, 2015 Peter Lloyd
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart wrote the melody to this number, Divertimento in D KV 334

Bringing my son, David, home from the hospital a day or two after he was born, we heard Mozart's Divertimento in D on the radio—the first music David ever heard. I wrote this bit of advice to him soon after.

You were born with one, essential, fundamental thing that no one ever will explain
And if you use it with a bit of common sense, you will avoid unnecessary pain
It really pays to use
Yes, you were made to use
Don’t be afraid to use your brain

You can have the world and all its wonder as your plunder, but before you make your bed
Be sure to broaden your horizons just in case you want to take the universe instead
Don’t ever choose without
Never refuse without
You’re sure to lose without your head

Now it may seem kind of contradictory to you
From time to time when you are forced to listen to
Some old pedantic fool with nothing else to do
But prattle on and on and on
Then your challenge is to keep your balance
While you find the needle somewhere in the hay

Even though you lead and others follow, you will often feel alone because you’ll find
The very fact that you can keep your head in tact, means others are, in fact, the other kind
Don’t disapprove without
Never behoove without
Don’t make a move without your mind

Every now and then you’re bound to run into a few
Fanatics who will try to razzle-dazzle you
With happy hocus pocus hype and very
Unsophisticated points of view
You know better than to let them fetter
You with any rules that tell you not to use

The most precious and essential, fundamental thing that no one ever will explain
Be sure to use it with a bit of common sense. You will avoid unnecessary pain
It really pays to use
Yes, you were made to use
Don’t be afraid to use your brain

Your Brain

Words and music © Copyright 2006, 2015 Peter Lloyd
Performed by my dear, long-time buddy, David Rhodes Brown

Cut a little bait, rig a little pole
Drive out on the lake, drill a little hole 
Ice fishin’, ice fishin’ 

Catch a mess of perch, throw ‘em in a pan 
Cook ‘em up and eat as many as you can 
Ice fishin’, ice fishin’ 

Nothin’ puts your mind at ease
Like ice and sky as far as your eyes can see 

Your toes as warm as toast, ‘spite what you’ve been told 
Fish are always fresh, beer is always cold
Ice fishin’, ice fishin’ 

Head back to the shack, play a little cards 
Drink a little whiskey, smoke a few cigars 
Ice fishin’, ice fishin’ 

Nothin’ puts your mind at ease
Like ice and sky as far as your eyes can see 

Cut a little bait, rig a little pole
Drive out on the lake, drill a little hole 
Ice fishin’, ice fishin’ 

Ice fishin’, ice fishin’

Ice Fishin'

Words and music by Ben Lawson. Ben sent his version of this song around to friends and invited them to re-do it. So I did. The image features Dash of the Ayers family.

I don't know why I think like a dog
But I'll run all day, yeah, like a dog
If runnings what I gotta do
I'll do it for you

I can't explain why I'm hungry all the time
But I go without food, yeah, I'll be fine
If starvings what I gotta do
I'll starve for you

I don't understand why you make me wait outside
When all I wanna do is be by your side
If waitings what I gotta do
I'll do it for you

If waitings what I gotta do
I'll wait for you
If that's what it's coming to
That's what I'll do

Laika Dawg

Songwriter since 1966. Can't believe I still have to write protest songs. Prefer writing love songs and songs of praise for stand-up women and men, parodies, lyrical nonsense, blues and adaptations.