Humor

© Copyright 2021 Peter Lloyd

I was feelin bout as groomed as Genghis Kahn
When I came across a place called Saul’s Salon
I walked in and said, “I need a haircut, Saul”
He said, “Sit on down, neighbor, and I’ll cut em all!”

He tossed a sheet across me and said, “I’m Bob
“It can get a little hairy, but I love my job”
“I believe you, Bob, but as I recall
“The sign on your window says your name is Saul”

“Well, what is truth,” Bob philosophized
“Is there really any difference tween truth and lies?
“Can you prove that E equals M C squared?
“When the Rapture comes will you be prepared?”

“The thing about it is, Bob, facts are facts
“And what you believe determines how you act”
I said, “There’s only one reality”
That’s when Bob interrupted me

“Everybody’s got their own reality
“I got mine and it’s right for me
“Does it really matter if I’m Bob or Saul
“Long as I answer when you call?”

Lie lie lie lie, lie dee lie
Oh, so sad to see truth die
They twistin it, bendin it, fixin to be endin it
Come on, people, time to start defendin it

I saw no use confronting Bob’s insanity
So I decided to ignore him and watch TV
Looked up on the wall and there on the screen
Was the spookiest creature I’ve ever seen

Her eyes were blazing, what she said, absurd
Though the sound was down, I could read every word
The more I read, the more I realized
What got into Bob was a shitload of lies

I said to Bob “I think I know what’s up with you?
“You been watching too damn much Fox News
“It’s no good for your brain, it’ll sicken your soul
“In the middle of your heart, leave a gaping hole

“Well,” Bob replied, “I got news for you
“Covid’s a hoax and global warming too
“The election was stolen, nine-eleven was staged
“The Clinton’s eat babies, but no babies were caged

“Obama’s from Kenya, and masks don’t work
“Sleepy Joe Biden is a socialist jerk
“The earth is flat and the moon is too
“I know cuz I watch — Fox News”

Lie lie lie lie, lie dee lie
Oh, so sad to see truth die
They twistin it, bendin it, fixin to be endin it
Come on, people, time to start defendin it

Bob’s not a fool, he’s just misinformed 
Like in Orwell’s story, nineteen-eighty-four
Took a little longer but it’s coming true 
And the people behind it — Fox News

No respect for the truth, don’t even know what it means 
Nothing but a clusterfuck of lying machines
First they lie, then you catch em, then they start denyin
If their lips are moving, you know they’re lyin

Lie lie lie lie, lie dee lie
Oh, so sad to see truth die
They twistin it, bendin it, fixin to be endin it
Come on, people, time to start defendin it

Even if you don’t believe the Earth is round
I think we can still find common ground 
Cuz there’s one thing we can never deny
If we hear it on Fox, it’s a goddamn lie

Lie lie lie lie, lie dee lie
Oh, so sad to see truth die
They twistin it, bendin it, fixin to be endin it
Come on, people, time to start defendin it
Come on, people, time to start defendin the truth

Fox News Blues

© Copyright 2020 Peter Lloyd
Melody adapted from "Beautiful Dreamer" by Stephen Foster

No, bladder cancer’s not such a bad fate
Not ‘less you miss it or treat it too late
Urologists spot it, no matter how small
Then go in and scape it right off of the wall

To get to your tumor, they don’t have to cut 
They don’t turn you over and go up your butt
The way to your bladder’s not in through your nose
They go up your schlong with long, rubber hose

Poor little penis takes all the pains
Gives only pleasure and never complains
Poor little penis just longs to be
A stout-hearted poker and not a poke-ee
A stout-hearted poker and not a poke-ee

First they prepare you and put you to sleep
Into a twilight you go, not too deep
Meanwhile your penis takes all of the flak
While you in your twilight, lie flat on your back

Poor little penis takes all the pains
Gives only pleasure and never complains
Poor little penis just longs to be
A stout-hearted poker and not a poke-ee
A stout-hearted poker and not a poke-ee

No, bladder cancer’s not such a bad fate
Not ‘less you miss it or treat it too late
So go see your doctor, and one who’s well known
For treating each penis as if it’s his own

Poor little penis takes all the pains
Gives only pleasure and never complains
Poor little penis just longs to be
A stout-hearted poker and not a poke-ee
A stout-hearted poker and not a poke-ee

Poor Little Penis

© 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

A fun track with a humorous vibe. This song is about the importance of taking care of your shoes.

Credits: Written & Produced by: Peter Lloyd 

Connect with Peter Lloyd at music@peterlloyd.com
#be good to your shoes #singer-songwriter #NewMusic #PeterLloyd

Lyrics:

Take a good look at your shoes, you may not know it
But they've got feelings just like you, although they never show it
Your shoes should be your friends. They love you and it's true
That if you treat them really good, they might even talk to you

So be good to your shoes, love them new or old
A real good pair goes everywhere and never should be sold
If you love your shoes, your toes will never get cold
Just remember when you walk on them, each one has a sole

When I was a little bit younger, about the age of you
I had my favorite hat and my favorite pair of shoes
My hat, it blew away one day, so I looked down at my feet
My shoes just smiled and said to me, "We're still with you, Pete."

So be good to your shoes, love them new or old
A real good pair goes everywhere and never should be sold
If you love your shoes, your toes will never get cold
Just remember when you walk on them, each one has a sole

I took a walk the other day. I didn't know where to go
But I walked so far and got so lost, I thought I'd never get home
I cried, "I need direction!" But my shoes just said, "What for?"
As the turned me around and walked me up, right to my front door

So be good to your shoes, love them new or old
A real good pair goes everywhere and never should be sold
If you love your shoes, your toes will never get cold
Just remember when you walk on them, each one has a sole

Some folks like to wear sandals and I think that's a shame
They're no good  in the winter time and you can catch cold if it rains
And if you're climbing up a ladder, you can get your toes caught on the rungs
And sandals never talk to you, 'cuz they ain't got no tongues

So be good to your shoes, love them new or old
A real good pair goes everywhere and never should be sold
If you love your shoes, your toes will never get cold
Just remember when you walk on them, each one has a sole

I started going barefoot back in my early teens
I must have stepped on every thorn and got stung by every single bee
I stubbed my toe a thousand times. I even caught a rusty nail
Me feet got so obscene that they threw 'em both in jail

I haven't seen my feet now since  I don't know when
Because I never take my shoes off, not even when I swim
You see, my shoes, they love me feet from the ankles to the toes
And every time I try to take them off,  they won't let go

So be good to your shoes, love them new or old
A real good pair goes everywhere and never should be sold
If you love your shoes, your toes will never get cold
Just remember when you walk on them, each one has a sole

Shoes are a lot like people and people are a lot like shoes
We've all got soul, we all got tongues, so that shouldn't come as any news
But if anybody, anywhere, harbors any doubt
Just try to recall the most recent time you got caught with your foot in your mouth

Chorus
So be good to your shoes, love them new or old
A real good pair goes everywhere and never should be sold
If you love your shoes, your toes will never get cold
Just remember when you walk on them, each one has a sole

Tag
Each one has a sole
each one has a sole

Words and music © Copyright 1969, 2015, 2025 Peter Lloyd

Be Good to Your Shoes

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 2000, 2015 Peter Lloyd

Never desire a girl on a wire
You might lose your balance but she’ll never fall 
Never caress a master of chess
You may capture a piece or two but she’ll take ‘em all

Never connect with an architect
She’ll put up cool houses but you’ll live in a dump
Never corral a political gal
You’ll be stuffing a ballot box, while she’s out on the stump

Stay single save your money
And spend it all on free-spirited chicks
Stay single taste the honey
While you’re still young enough to savor your kicks

Never seduce a pretty masseuse
She’ll rub you the wrong way and get under your skin 
Never engage a star of the stage
She’ll need so many encores, it’ll make your head spin

Never marry a secretary
You may learn too late that she’s just not your type
Never ally with a feisty GI
You may rise through her ranks, but you’ll earn every stripe

Stay single save your money
Take an old married man’s advice
Stay single enjoy the honey
Before drop in supply increases the price

Stay single save your money
Keep your life balanced and calm
Stay single share the honey
Unless you find a girl just like your mom

Never Marry

Words and music © Copyright 2013 Peter Lloyd

I’d like to share something personal with you
About a weird ordeal I just went through
It involves my junk and a bunch of strangers
Drugs, a bed, sex toys, and danger

Oh, my! Oh, me! I’m ‘bout as lucky as a guy can be
Oh, my! Oh, me! I’m gonna meet Sis Taco P

Doc Johnson said, “Pop, I wanna check your bladder”
“Oh, really, doc? What’s the matter?”
He said, “If I don’t, you just might die”
I said, “Okay, doc, let’s give it a try!”
Then he said something, wasn’t quite clear to me
“I’m gonna set you up with Sis Taco P.”

Oh, my! Oh, me! I’m ‘bout as lucky as a guy can be
Oh, my! Oh, me! I’m gonna meet Sis Taco P

So I got dolled up in a backless gown
Rolled me in to where they laid me down
First came the nurse, a big, burly guy
Had a bit of a twinkle in his eye
Soaked a cloth with a cold, orange potion
Painted my business in a tender motion
Patted me down with a soft, blue rag
Tossed em both in the hazard bag

Oh, my! Oh, me! I’m ‘bout as lucky as a guy can be
Oh, my! Oh, me! I’m gonna meet Sis Taco P

Then he produced a syringe with a small, dull point
Shot the cold, white contents into the end of my joint
Then in walked the doc with a big, black scope
Hose ‘bout as thick as a jumping rope
Smiled and said, “You may feel a pinch”
Ol’ one-eye had already swallowed an inch

Oh, my! Oh, me! I’m ‘bout as lucky as a guy can be
Oh, my! Oh, me! I’m gonna meet Sis Taco P

Well, urethra don’t go in a very straight line 
Came time to turn the corner where the sun don’t shine
Felt that pinch when the doctor said
“That’s about as bad as it’s gonna get”
Up into my bladder the scope hose slid
The good news came just as soon as it did
Doc said, “It all looks good to me
Everything’s just the way it oughta be”

Oh, my! Oh, me! I’m ‘bout as lucky as a guy can be
Oh, my! Oh, me! I’m gonna meet Sis Taco P

Well, boys, if you’ve got nothing better to do
Sis Taco might just be the thing for you
But you think maybe you shouldn’t oughta
Walk softly, carry a big stick, and drink lots of water

Oh, my! Oh, me! I’m ‘bout as lucky as a guy can be
Oh, my! Oh, me! I’m gonna meet Sis Taco P

Sis Taco P

Words and music © Copyright 2015 Peter Lloyd

You need someone to love you
You need someone to rub and kiss your feet
You need someone with tons and tons of money
And you need to make sure they never meet

Your Feet

Words and music © Copyright 2007, 2015 Peter Lloyd

It felt just like a normal autumn night 
The air was cool, the moon was shining bright
But up and down the streets crept scary creatures
Pirates, ghosts, and chalky fingered teachers
With the scariest of all yet to be seen
Once upon a haunted Halloween 

Three young kids all loaded down with treats 
Dragged their heavy bags along the streets 
Wet leaves fell from trees above their heads 
Yucky yellow-orange and bloody reds
It was Nick and Jack with Evelyn in between
Once upon a haunted Halloween 

“One more house and then we’ll head on back” 
Evelyn announced to Nick and Jack
“I have to pee now!” Nick began to whine
Cuz he was only six and Jack was nine
But Evelyn was going on thirteen 
Once upon a haunted Halloween 

“Look!” said Nick, “That wasn’t there before.” 
“Cool!” said Jack, “Let’s go knock on the door.” 
Evelyn agreed, but Nick cried, “No!”
They turned to Jack and he said, “Sure, let’s go!” 
So up they went with Evelyn in between
Once upon a haunted Halloween 

In their throats they felt their wee hearts beat 
And all called out together, “Trick or treat!” 
The door began to open with a creak
When Evelyn leaned in to take a peek
She sunk inside just like a submarine 
Once upon a haunted Halloween 

Nick and Jack were sucked inside as well 
Along with sister Evelyn they fell
Into the darkness far as they could see
When Nick complained again, “I have to pee!” 
They landed on a giant trampoline
Once upon a haunted Halloween 

“My name is Azzelodnock,” sneered the witch
Who buttered them with oil black as pitch
Her evil smile revealed two jagged teeth
As she bound them like a twisted Christmas wreath 
And stuffed them in her oven like sardines
Once upon a haunted Halloween 

Then evil Azzelodnock stoked the fire
And cackled as the flames kept crackling higher
“It’s hot in here!” Nick cried, “I think I’m choking!” 
The witch just chuckled, “Thank you for not smoking. 
Cuz healthy children make the best cuisine.”
Once upon a haunted Halloween 

Then Evelyn said, “Nick, I think you know
That when you gotta go, you gotta go.”
So Nick let loose and thick smoke filled the room 
The witch blew up before she reached her broom 
Her pieces smelled like rotten tangerine
Once upon a haunted Halloween 

Somewhere sit three children eating candy 
Their father thinks that all is fine and dandy 
But mother wonders, What smells like a torch? 
And who left that old broom out on the porch? 
Nick and Jack with Evelyn in between
Once upon a haunted Halloween
Once upon a haunted Halloween

Once Upon a Haunted Halloween

This song was introduced to me by Walter Craft. I believe the version I received was a traditional, unprotected work. After polishing it up a bit, I claim my version, words and music © Copyright 2006, 2015 Peter Lloyd.

I am the meek Banana Slug, a relative of the snail
I go about without a shell in which to tuck my tail
You’ll find me in the garden in the early morning light
Just pick me up and take me home and give someone a fright

Banana-nana-nana-nana-nana-nana-nana-nana-nana-nana-nana-nana Slug!

They call me the Banana Slug because my hue is yellow 
My body’s the consistency of old and rubbery Jell-O
You can call me “slick” because I slide along my slime 
And since I have to drag my butt, I always take my time

Banana-nana-nana-nana-nana-nana-nana-nana-nana-nana-nana-nana Slug!

My belly is all brown and striped with gooey little bands
So if you pick me up, you get my slime all over your hands 
Upon my head two little stalks, they give my eyes a ride 
And if you try to touch them, I just suck ‘em both inside
Banana-nana-nana-nana-nana-nana-nana-nana-nana-nana-nana-nana Slug!

A lot of people envy me and wish they shared my fate
Cuz all I do the whole day through is eat and sleep and mate 
Although some folks consider me a rare and delicate treat
I really would prefer that you find something else to eat

Banana-nana-nana-nana-nana-nana-nana-nana-nana-nana-nana-nana Slug!

Banana Slug

Words and music © Copyright 2009, 2015 Peter Lloyd

All my friends are growing old, they’re growing old
Gainin’ weight and goin’ lame
Met an old friend, but he had all these wrinkles on his face
Hell, I could not recall his name

All my friends are gettin’ weaker by the day
Not just their legs but in their head
This old gal was goin’ on about her shingles or sciatica
I couldn’t hear a word she said 

What?
Be good to your shoes… Wrong song?
Oh? Where are we? Candy kisses…  Goo lah goosh . . .

All my friends are slowin’ down, they’re slowin’ down
Unlike me, they’ve gotten soft
Hell, I still get up every morning and I run around the block…
I guess I musta nodded off 

What? He died?
No, I didn’t know.
What? You think I’ve nothin’ better to dothan read the obituaries all day?
I gotta go out and get the paper?
Paper? We haven’t got the paper in 30 years.
I gotta fix that door . . .

All my friends are growing old, they’re growing old
Gainin’ weight and goin’ lame
Met an old friend, but he had all these wrinkles on his face
I could not recall his name
I could not recall his name
Hell, sometimes I can’t even remember my own damn name

All My Friends

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

A ditty dedicated to Everett Ayers and his dog Dash, sung by Elearnor Ayers

Words and music © Copyright 2016, 2025 Peter Lloyd

Tell me what do your dog do
Dog do, dog do
I wanna know what your dog do
Duh doot doot dooby doo doo

My dog loves to chase a ball
And bring it back and then
Makes me throw it one more time
Again and again and again

Tell me what do your dog do
Dog do, dog do
I wanna know what your dog do
Duh doot doot dooby doo doo

My dog barks when anyone
Comes near my front door 
That’s cuz folks are made of meat
And he’s a carnivore

Tell me what do your dog do
Dog do, dog do
I wanna know what your dog do
Duh doot doot dooby doo doo

My dog eats two meals a day
And nothing in between
Doesn’t use a fork or spoon
But licks his dog bowl clean

Tell me what do your dog do
Dog do, dog do
I wanna know what your dog do
Duh doot doot dooby doo doo

My dog loves to lick my face
And sniff me head to toe
If he thinks my butt smells bad
He never lets it show

Tell me what do your dog do
Dog do, dog do
I wanna know what your dog do
Duh doot doot dooby doo doo

My dog poops out in the yard
And never picks it up
Me, I learned to use the pot
When I was just a pup

Tell me what do your dog do
Dog do, dog do
I wanna know what your dog do
Duh doot doot dooby doo doo

Duh doot doot dooby 
Duh doot doot dooby 
Duh doot doot dooby doo doo

Dog Do

Words and music by Peter Lloyd © Copyright 2006, 2015 Peter Lloyd

Four, three, two, one

I wrote this song to make some money 
I'm low on cash and that ain't funny 
I've paid my dues and that's a fact
It's time to get some money back

I ain't in love, my heart ain't broken 
But I'm down to my last subway token 
All I need is one big hit
Then I'll pack it up and call it quits 

Make your deejay play it again
Move it on up to number ten
Make your deejay play it some more
Move it on up to number four, three, two, one

I wrote this song to be a star 
Buy myself a new guitar
Move to Nashville, Tennessee 
Ask Dolly Parton to marry me

Make Some Money

Love doesn't always go bad, but when it does, it goes something like this number composed with Buck "Tiger by the Tail" Owens in mind.

© Copyright 1992, 2015 Peter Lloyd

She used to  call me every Friday morning
And we'd go dancing every Friday night
But now she lays around, she never takes me out to paint the town 
Her feet don't get it any more

She used to  tickle me between the covers
She'd keep me up all hours of the night
But now she's cold as ice, she's got some batteried device 
Her hips don't get it any more

I know this hasn't been exactly
What a marriage oughta be
But if you only get out what you put into
I got plenty coming to me

She made me  give up hunting and hard liquor
She taught me how to count cholesterol
But now she smokes in bed and looks extremely overfed 
Her heart don't get it any more

I know this hasn't been exactly
What a marriage oughta be
But if you only get out what you put into
I got plenty coming to me 

She used to  always ask me my opinion
She'd call me twice a day for my advice
But now she  leaves me notes, she even tries to tell me how to vote

Her head don't get it
Her heart don't get it
Her hips sure don't get it
Her feet don't get it
She still might bear it but she sure don't grin it
Cuz she don't get it anymore

She Used To

Words and music © Copyright 2006, 2015 Peter Lloyd

It doesn’t make any sense to fall in love with you 
But I’ve got no defense against those things you do 
I might as well confess—I love you, I guess

I can’t deny this feeling, I can’t escape my plight 
I’m staring at the ceiling long into the night
I might as well confess—I love you, I guess

I’ve never felt such deep devotion
Coming from the bottom of my heart
I guess we should get this love in motion 
Won’t you tell me when you’re ready to start?

I hope you won’t deny me my chance to fall in love 
Come on over here and try me, see what I’m made of
I might as well confess—I love you, I guess

I’ve never felt such deep devotion
Coming from the bottom of my heart
I guess we should get this love in motion 
Won’t you tell me when you’re ready to start?

It doesn’t make any sense to fall in love with you
But I’m coming down off the fence, please show me what to do 
I might as well confess—I love you, I guess.
I might as well confess—I love you

I Guess I Love You

© Copyright 2015 Harry Warren, Jack Brooks, and Peter Lloyd

In USA where right is wrong
And left is right, we sing this song

When you hear someone say that more guns make us safe
That’s a moron (That’s a moron)
When you hear someone call for a long border wall
That’s a moron  (That’s a moron)

When you hear empty headed fear, empty headed fear
Yes, it just might annoy ya
But you know little do they know, little do they know
And it’s just paranoia

When you hear someone say it’s a choice to be gay
That’s a moron  (That’s a moron)
And when someone attacks every tax with an axe, he’s a scrooge
When you hear someone spit in a spiritual fit, “There’s  a war on!”
I’m afraid that we say here in old USA, that’s a moron

When you hear someone claim that there’s no climate change
That’s a crazy (That’s a crazy)
When you hear from a dude who poo-poos Evolution
That’s a crazy (That’s a crazy)

When you hear empty headed fear, empty headed fear
Yes, it just might annoy ya
But you know little do they know, little do they know
And it’s just paranoia

When you hear someone say all was made in six days
That’s a crazy (That’s a crazy)
When a man wrapped in perks tells you trickle down works, it’s a con
And when somebody claims, “It’s the needy we blame, cuz they’re lazy”
I’m afraid that we say here in old USA, that’s a crazy

That's a Moron

Words and music © Copyright 1971, 2016 Peter Lloyd

You left your footprints on the doorstep of my heart when you walked out
You caught my finger when you slammed the door
I guess you didn’t hear me when I opened it up to shout
“I guess this means you don’t love me anymore?”
 
You took along all my favorite phonograph records and you don’t own a stereo
I still don’t understand how you’re gonna hear them play
I guess it doesn’t matter. They were all scratched and kind of old
Keep the damn things. I never played them anyway

My darling, how can I forget you with your footprints on my heart
And all my records stole from me besides?
There’s so much I want to say to you, but I don’t know where to start
So I’ll stop

Footprints

Merry Christmas, boys and girls
Come on, sit on Santa’s lap
I’ll tell you story about a toy
And a very bad boy

Well, Mom bought Larry a Starter-Up Steve
The truck that puts kids in the driver’s seat
They punch in a program, and the truck moves slow
At least that’s how the commercial goes

No, Mom didn’t know it, but she’d soon find out
What the darker side of fun was all about
You see, Larry was cuter than a newborn cub 
But he’d sold his soul to Beelzebub

Starter-Up Steve 
Starter-Up Steve    

Mama watched Larry “oo” and “ah” 
Punching Steve’s buttons with his cute li’l paw 
But she got bored and snuck up to the sack 
Now Steve was headed for the end of his track 

The boy hopped Steve like a kangaroo 
Up, back, left, right, and wheelies, too
As Larry kept driving, anyone could tell 
He was setting up Steve for one living hell

Starter-Up Steve 
Starter-Up Steve    

Steve tried to avoid his rendezvous
But he could only do what he was programmed to 
His tires screeched and his motor raced
And he drove right into the fireplace

His plastic chassis went up in flame
Bounced out of the fire on its twisted frame
Then he spun around trailing sparks and soot 
Took a hit on his hood from the kid’s left foot

Starter-Up Steve
Starter-Up Steve    

That mean little devil, he squealed with glee
Chasin’ flamin’ Steve ‘round the Christmas tree 
The tree caught fire with a hefty roar
And the boy followed Steve out the parlor door 

Then the whole damn house went up in smoke 
‘Course Larry took it all as one big joke
No more diapers, no more pins
No more Mommy’s goo-goo grins

Starter-Up Steve 
Starter-Up Steve    

Now Steve, started movin’ at a blindin’ speed
Burning ‘cross the lawn toward the hickory tree
He hit that trunk at a terrible pace
Made a big impression on his plastic face

Larry ran up to his loyal chum
All hot and gooey like chewing gum
Steve’s one good eye rolled back in his head
And the boy cried, “Damn! Stupid Steve is dead.”

Starter-Up Steve 
Starter-Up Steve    

Now mom and dad, it’s time once more
To run on down to your big, box store
Just keep in mind when you’re buyin toys
What happens in the hands of innocent boys

Take your list and check it twice
But before you buy take my advice
No matter what you get for your sweet li’l son
He’s bound to find the darker side of fun

Starter-Up Steve 
Starter-Up Steve

© Copyright 2016 Peter Lloyd

The Darker Side of Fun

Words, music, and performance © Copyright 2017 Peter Lloyd

This song is brought to you by Amerikoch
And now a word from our sponsor

Everything we own must go
So now’s the time for saving
Hurry in to satisfy
Your every need and craving

Back to our song

I’ve been told
The roads of Hell are lined with gold
The rats dress up in pinstripe suits
And tom cats prowl in combat boots

And now a word from our sponsor

Buy yourself a congressperson
Buy one for your cousin
Buy eleven, get one free
They’re cheaper by the dozen

Back to our song

Tell me why
When camels spy the needle’s eye
They turn away, begin to cry
And start to sing a sad goodbye

And now a final word from our sponsor

Buy a slice of Uncle Sam 
Yes, now’s the time to order
Operators standing by
Somewhere beyond the border

That’s our song. See you next time

Welcome to Amerikoch

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.