Stephen Foster

© 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

Homage to Stephen Foster and to my childhood home of North College Hill, Ohio,  a suburb of Cincinnati, whose name does not lend itself  very well to melodic meter.

Words and music © Copyright 1969, 2003, 2011, 2016 Peter Lloyd

Oh, how the days passed, so long, filled with fun
We would play along the streets and alleys, laughing as we’d run
Warm was the pavement ‘neath the sweet summer sun
In my younger days in Cincinnati, may they be retold
Could I keep the laughter in my heart from those younger days in Cincinnati
Sure I’d never grow old

Oft times I ponder, oh, how my heart does yearn
What imparts a child sustaining joy a man should want to learn
Some day in summer, I’m sure I must return
When I see those children’s smiling faces, will they know I long
For the blessing of the joy to spend just one younger day in Cincinnati
Full with carefree song

How I return, I’m sure I’ll never know
Do I slip the gnarly grip of time or dream my way back home?
Somehow my child’s eyes upraise their sleepy shades
And the granite load of life’s long labor gently falls away
As the peal of laughter draws me home to one younger day in Cincinnati 
Mark what I behold

Who knows this stranger who on our games now spies?
No hint of harm comes in his heart, yet tears well in his eyes
There in his winter, I feel my own foretold
So I swear the roaring heat of summer never will grow cold
For I’ll keep the laughter in my heart from this younger day in Cincinnati
Sure, I’ll never grow old
Oh, how the days passed, so long

Younger Days in Cincinnati

To the tune of "Old Folks at Home"
 
Wayne Bailey stopped on by this mornin’
As was his way
Called to my window without warnin’
“Here comes the same old day”
 
On down the road we went a-walkin’
As was our way
Wayne doin’ almost all the talkin’
Here’s what old Wayne had to say:
 
"Around the world the time-old story
"Ev'ry day the same
"Some risk their lives for love and glory
"Some treat it like a game
 
"One walks the dog and dries the dishes
"One folds the clothes
"One cuts the bait, the other fishes
"One weeds, the other hoes
 
"Some trade in slaves and steal their labors
"Some sell their wares
"Some grab a gun and slay their neighbors
"Some offer thoughts and prayers
 
"Around the world the time-old story
"Ev'ry day the same
"Some risk their lives for love and glory
"Some treat it like a game"
 
On back around we came from walkin’
As was our way
Wayne doin’ almost all the talkin’
Like ev’ry other day
 
"Around the world the time-old story
"Ev'ry day the same
"Some risk their lives for love and glory
"Some treat it like a game"
 
© Copyright 2022 Peter Lloyd

What Old Wayne Said

No sun shines bright on Breonna Taylor’s home
There sorrow and darkness remain
In empty rooms where the fatal shots have flown
The echoes of death will always reign

Our heads must bow for how far we fall behind
True justice without and within
When bullets fly, it’s the darker skin they find
No matter how slight or small the sin

Weep no more, good people
Oh, spare your thoughts and pra yers
Rather sing one song for Breonna Taylor’s home
And the shameful stain that lingers there
How many times will we pause at end of day
And wonder how long we must roam
Until we lay down that fair and level way
We take to our bright and better home
Weep no more, good people
Oh, spare your thoughts and prayers
Rather sing one song for Breonna Taylor’s home
And the shameful stain that lingers there 

Let us sing one song for Breonna Taylor’s home
And the shameful stain that lingers there

(c) Copyright 2025 Peter Lloyd
music by suno AI

Breonna Taylor’s Home

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.