Encouragement

Blues

Business Ballads

© Copyright 2007, 2015 Peter Lloyd

It's hard for me to smile when you're looking so lonely
It's hard for me to laugh when you're feeling blue
It just might take a while to show you it's never as dark as it seems
But I'll be right by your side  until you're dancing your dreams

I'll hold you while you cry when your poor heart gets broken
I'll laugh with you again when you're on the mend
I know you'll find a way to laugh down your troubles in all their extremes
And it's never hard to smile  while you're dancing your dreams

Let me see your big bright smile like the sun coming up over the sea
Whistle me a tune, spin around the room
Like you do when you're laughing with me

Who could see you smile and not want to smile with you?
Who could hear you laugh and not laugh along?
The world's already cried enough tears to overflow all of her streams
We need to hear your song  and see you dancing your dreams

Let me see your big bright smile like the sun coming up over the sea
Whistle me a tune, spin around the room
Like you do when you're laughing at me

Who could see you smile and not want to smile with you?
Who could hear you laugh and not laugh along?
The world's already cried enough tears to overflow all of her streams
We need to hear your song  and see you dancing your dreams

Let us hear your song  and see you dancing your dreams
It's time to hear your song  and see you dancing your dreams

Dancing Your Dreams

© 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

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

© Copyright 2021 Peter Lloyd and David Hirschberg

The Ghost Army’s set out to win another fight 
With magic, illusion, noises in the night

Gilbert Seitzer, world war number two
Never pulled a knife or fired a gun
With tanks that never rolled and planes that never flew
He did his part by pulling pranks and having fun

What fun to make the Nazis act like dupes
With inflated rubber cannons, planes, and tanks
Blasting loud the sound of deadly marching troops
He made the Nazis shoot at ghosts instead of Yanks

Boom boom, ha ha, fooled another Hun
Boom boom, ha ha, thought he heard a gun
Boom boom, ha ha, thought he saw a tank
Boom boom, ha ha, saved another Yank

The Ghost Army’s set out to win another fight 
With magic, illusion, noises in the night

In ‘45 on the perilous front line
A day our brave troops still deserve to toast
While two US divisions ten miles downstream crossed the Rhine
They made the Nazis blow their wad on ghosts

Boom boom, ha ha, thought he heard a plane
Boom boom, ha ha, shot again in vain
Boom boom, ha ha, fooled another Jerry
Boom boom, ha ha, silly adversary

Post-war Gilbert gave up playing tricks
Pleased with just how well he’d played his part
Lived beyond big birthday number one-hundred-and-six
The prize for winning war with art 

The Ghost Army’s set out to win another fight
The Ghost Army’s set out to win another fight
The Ghost Army’s set out to win another fight 
With magic, illusion, noises in the night

Boom Boom Ha Ha (Ghost Army)

© Copyright 1972, 2002 by Peter Lloyd

Two o’clock when I lay down, three o’clock when I rise
I can’t get no sleep with all these tears in my eyes
I walk around, baby, and I don’t talk too much
How am I supposed to operate with my heart on a crutch? 
It ain’t easy when your lover leave you all alone

My woman, she’s so mean she done move across the street
I sit here on my front porch and watch the company that she keep 
I can still remember when she used to love to make me smile
I guess it’s somebody else’s turn to carry the ball for a while
It ain’t easy when your lover leave you all alone

Her love was all I had, I suppose it made me feel to proud
Had a love for that low-life woman that the law just don’t allow
I would join the Salvation Army, ain’t no mountain I wouldn’t climb 
I’d learn to sing like Frank Sinatra if she’d love me one more time 
It ain’t easy when your lover leave you all alone
It ain’t easy when your lover leave you all alone

I take my handle in my hand and I pass around the pan
I feel like I just don’t fit and I fear I never can
See me sitting here about to give up my Holy Ghost?
That’s no way for a man to feel, but that’s the way I feel 
most of the time 
It ain’t easy when your lover leave you all alone

Two candles burn in my chest. One is black and the other one’s white
One tells me I ought to live and the other says, “Go give up and die.”
So I throw three pennies on the floor, one is tails 
and the other one’s heads 
I’ll never know what the third one said, cuz it rolled underneath the bed 
It ain’t easy when your lover leave you all alone
It ain’t easy when your lover leave you all alone

Front Porch Blues

© Copyright 2018 Peter Lloyd

Have you heard, “If you can dream it, you can do it”?
No, you can’t, but go ahead and try
Just remember, even if you do achieve your dream
You’ll still get old and sick, and then you’ll die

What you can do is do a little better
Help your neighbor tote part of his load
What you can do is take less and give a little more
When you serve the cake, make sure it's a la mode

Now, the next verse, I lifted. Full disclosure. 
From a man whose work has topped the test of time
He wrote the way he wrote, cuz that’s the way he chose to write 
And perhaps that’s why it doesn’t rhyme

Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more
It is a tale told by an idiot
Full of sound and fury signifying nothing

What you can do is be a little kinder
Help your neighbor tote part of his load
What you can do is toss a little spare change out your window
To the guy with the cardboard sign along the road

While I’m stealing material, let’s go back a little further

Vanity of vanities! All is vanity. 
What does man gain by all the toil at which he toils under the sun?
What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done
And there is nothing new under the sun

What you can do is show a little mercy
Help your neighbor tote part of his load
If you do perform some random act of kindness
Don’t look back and wonder if it showed

Your eulogy won’t mention your income
If you do gain fame, it may cite a coup or two
Most likely your obit will simply make a list
Of those you loved and those who loved you
Yes, it’s all about whom you love and who loves you

The rest is bullshit

Tomorrow, Tomorrow and Tomorrow

© Copyright 2022 Peter Lloyd

When they discovered me, they gave a name
Some sort of underworld god
They told me planet life meant fortune and fame
I found that was all a façade

Expecting nothing but an orbital blast
I joined my eight planet peers
So what if one revolution would last
Two-hundred-forty-eight years


Once I had some status, life was great
Outer limits were mine
Way beyond old Neptune, number eight
Back when I was planet nine

I still cut an orit far and wide
Orbiting Sun’s outer line 
Now without my status or my pride
Back when I was planet nine


Me and five moons, in Kuiper’s belt
So what if our footprint was small
Ice and rock too damn cold to melt
Our orbit’s still the biggest of all

Remember who they called a Roman god
Before they made me resign
Before they found my appellation flawed
Back when I was planet nine

Back When I Was Planet Nine

The Canadian plains, they stretch and they strain
A thousand miles north of Alpena
Cold, like a curse, drives a ghost-colored hearse
And drones like a Latin novena

Buffalo Jill leaves her calf on the hill
Too broken to run any longer
The pack, standing by, howls, “No time to cry
The weaker make food for the stronger"

When you come back home, run my finger-comb through your hair
Rest my weary head on your strong, young shoulder
When you comin' home? Waitin' for an omen, or what?
Don't forget, ain't nobody ain't growin' older 
Ain't nobody ain't growin' older

The fireman knows how to handle his hose
His truck's painted red for a reason
But I know the way out back 'round the bay
Where the big 'uns are runnin' this season

When you come back home, run my finger-comb through your hair
Rest my weary head on your strong, young shoulder
When you comin' home? Waitin' for an omen, or what?
Don't forget, ain't nobody ain't growin' older 
Ain't nobody ain't growin' older

From a bucket of swords come diminished-fifth chords
That must make you feel quite clever
Yes, time comes in spates, and I know Tom Waits
But nobody waits forever

When you come back home, run my finger-comb through your hair
Rest my weary head on your strong, young shoulder
When you comin' home? Waitin' for an omen, or what?
Don't forget, ain't nobody ain't growin' older 
Ain't nobody ain't growin' older 
Ain't nobody ain't growin' older

Words © Copyright 2014, 2025 Peter Lloyd
Music by Suno.com AI

Winter Solstice

Words and music © Copyright 2000, 2015 Peter Lloyd

Let me be your storm cloud, rain for all I’m worth
Roar in with the thunder, soak your sorry earth        
Let me be your river swollen with debris
Feed your awful sadness to the hungry sea
Let me be your hurricane’s raging, screaming eye
Toss your thieving pirate ships through the frozen sky

I don’t want to see you cry anymore. 
Let me kiss away your tears 
I just want to see you fly once more 
Far beyond your darkest fears 

Let me be the pillow where you rest your head 
Raise a cozy canopy just above your bed
Let me be the ceiling over you at night
Drive your surly demons ever from your sight    
Let me be the watchman in your sleeping skies
I will turn the Milky Way as you close your eyes

I don’t want to see you cry anymore. 
Let me kiss away your tears 
I just want to see you fly once more 
Far beyond your darkest fears 

You don’t need a refuge. It’s no use to hide 
Anything you run from follows you inside        
You don’t need a wonder. Miracles are free
You’ve already shown me more than I can see    
You don’t need an aeroplane. You can fly alone
Think of all the fantasy you’ve already flown

I don’t want to see you cry anymore. 
Let me kiss away your tears 
I just want to see you fly once more 
Far beyond your darkest fears

I don’t want to see you cry. Far beyond the darkness fly 
I don’t want to see you cry. Far beyond the darkness fly

Words and music © Copyright 1969, 1999, 2015 Peter Lloyd

A long time ago, I took a History of Broadcasting course taught by Jack Rouse at the University of Cincinnati College Conservatory of Music. Jack spent a good deal of time on the story of the great inventor Thomas Edison.

I went home after the Edison lesson and wrote the song. Most of it is true. Including the part about "Mary Had a Little Lamb" and Tom's thaumatrope, praxinoscope, and phenakistoscope.

Every time you lay down in bed
You got no control what comes into your head
I lay down the other night alongside of my cat
Thinking about the weather and things like that
When a dream took me back a year or two
I woke up with the Tom Edison Blues

‘Tain’t enough to create. ‘Snot enough to invent
You wanna do it right. Get your name in lights.  Gotta imp-a-lement

I was up in my lab near the break of day
When a woman walked in and said, “Hey, let’s play!”
I said, “I’ve gotta make a light bulb before dawn
She said, “Come on, Tom, let me turn you on.”
“I’ve been up all night, I can’t quit now.” 
She said, “Gimme a chance, I’ll show you how.”
I said, “History’s waiting, I can’t clown around.” 
She said, “Don’t look now, but your pants just fell down. 
 Sure enough, I was standing there naked
No way to hide it, no way to fake it.
So I ran behind my phonograph
Played “Mary Had a Little Lamb” to make her laugh.
She said, “Too bad, Mary, if you dig sheep
But I like inventors, cuz they never sleep.”

‘Tain’t enough to create. ‘Snot enough to invent
You wanna do it right. Get your name in lights.  Gotta imp-a-lement

Well, your dreams are pretty free and you can do what you please
So I tried to change myself into somebody mean.
I said, “Look, I’m your pa, I’m gonna give you a spanking.” 
She said,  “You look more like Benjamin Franklin.”
So I made like the devil with a whip and a sword
But she said I reminded her of Henry Ford.
Then I tried to make her fear for her very life
I said, “Settle down, you’re gonna wake up my wife.” 
She said, “Tom, while you’re up here, leaving her all alone
She’s out with some ding-a-ling inventing telephones.”

‘Tain’t enough to create. ‘Snot enough to invent
You wanna do it right. Get your name in lights.  Gotta imp-a-lement

Then I tried to distract her with my thomatrope
My phantasmagorica, and my prakcinescope.
When she paid no attention to my pharaktoscope
I knew my motion-picture camera was my only hope
So I rolled my first film about the factory
And all the workers trudging out as tired as can be
But the sun came up and filled my lab with light
I said, “I guess I’ll knock off till tomorrow night.”
She said, “Tom, you see that light bulb in your pocket? 
 I can make it shine because I got the socket.”

‘Tain’t enough to create. ‘Snot enough to invent
You wanna do it right. Get your name in lights.  Gotta imp-a-lement

Then phone rang, woke me up, to my surprise
I was kissing my cat and it was scratching out my eyes 
I answered the phone, mad as hell. 
I said, “Where’s my wife, Alexander Graham Bell?”

‘Tain’t enough to create. ‘Snot enough to invent
You wanna do it right. Get your name in lights.  Gotta imp-a-lement

See http://peterlloyd.com/music/cds/infah/index.shtml for all I'm Not From Around Here credits.

Thomas Edison Blues

Words and music © Copyright 1995, 2015 Victor Harrison and Peter Lloyd

Can you hear the bankers holler, “You’re leveraged to the hilt.”
You’ve bet bottom dollar just to get your business built
There’s little satisfaction and you’re under lots of stress
You toss and turn and wonder, how’d I get into this mess?

You got the cash-flow blues
You got the cash-flow blues
No remedy’s been found 
That can turn that flow around
You got the  cash-flow blues

Your accountant tells you gently, you can’t service all your debt
Your operation’s suffering, your boys are upset
Your hair’s gone gray from worry, your body’s lying limp 
You used to be so macho, but you’re feeling like a wimp

You got the cash-flow blues
You got the cash-flow blues
No remedy’s been found 
That can lift you off the ground
Boy, you got the  cash-flow blues

The IRS is after you for always paying late
Your bills are piling higher than the bridge called Golden Gate
Your wife’s about to leave you, cuz you’re never ever home
Your kids can never talk to you, you’re always on the phone

You got the cash-flow blues
You got the cash-flow blues
No remedy’s been found 
That can turn that flow around
You got the  cash-flow blues

Can you hear the bankers holler, “You’re leveraged to the hilt.”
You’ve bet bottom dollar just to get your business built
There’s little satisfaction and you’re under lots of stress
You toss and turn and wonder, how’d I get into this mess?

You got the cash-flow blues
You got the cash-flow blues
No remedy’s been found 
That can turn that flow around
You got the  cash-flow blues

Cash Flow Blues

I sitting on my front porch practicing my favorite Jamaican song...

Down the way where the nights are gay
And the sun shines daily on the mountain top

All of a sudden, I was rudely interrupted by a car alarm
Then I listened and realized the alarm was hitting a G
What goes with G? G7... A7... C... G7...
I made that car horn my rhythm section

Sad to say, I’m on my way
Won’t be back for many a day
My heart is down, my head is turning around
I had to leave a little girls in Kingston town

Got to go with what you got
Got to go with what you got
 Makes no difference if it’s h[C7]ot or not
Got to go with what you got


You can use it if it's hot or cold
You choose it if it's new or old

Got to go with what you got
Got to go with what you got
Makes no difference if it’s h[C7]ot or not
Got to go with what you got

© Copyright 2025 Peter Lloyd

Go With What You Got

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.