Show Tune #4 II
I wouldn't blame you if you do!
And if I said
'We're not dead
yet, are we, are we?
And if you
working, too,
said 'I do'
I wouldn't blame you if you do!
'What'!
'I didn't mean it'!
'Really, Frankie'?
'Yes, Johnnie,
And I promise to be true
what's more, Johnnie, honey
ain't nobody's
business
if we do'.
(bridge)
I wouldn't blame you, no sirree!
yet all the same, you see
it would be so alright
if all through the night-night
we could lay awake
in a cottage by a lake
under the rafters
somehow evading sleep
hearing the trout leap
waiting for dawn to break!
poem by Morgan Michaels
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Show Tune #4 I
You're the one
my heart dreams on
and I swear
that nightly bare
I want to see you
but if you say forget it, no way, hey,
I wouldn't blame you if you do!
If you said
'check your head
I think some parts are missing
I couldn't live
on what you give:
of huggin' and kissing'.
I wouldn't blame you if you do!
Then I might say, dear
riches' star
never shone my way, dear
and though you might be right, love
I can get new ones
when the war is over
So, I wouldn't blame you if you do!
So now you know
this old show
will soon be closing
and that fame
made my name
an anagram for nothing
I....
poem by Morgan Michaels
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Widow's Party
"Where have you been this while away,
Johnnie, Johnnie?"
'Long with the rest on a picnic lay,
Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha!
They called us out of the barrack-yard
To Gawd knows where from Gosport Hard,
And you can't refuse when you get the card,
And the Widow gives the party.
(~Bugle~: Ta--rara--ra-ra-rara!)
"What did you get to eat and drink,
Johnnie, Johnnie?"
Standing water as thick as ink,
Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha!
A bit o' beef that were three year stored,
A bit o' mutton as tough as a board,
And a fowl we killed with a sergeant's sword,
When the Widow give the party.
"What did you do for knives and forks,
Johnnie, Johnnie?"
We carries 'em with us wherever we walks,
Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha!
And some was sliced and some was halved,
And some was crimped and some was carved,
And some was gutted and some was starved,
When the Widow give the party.
"What ha' you done with half your mess,
Johnnie, Johnnie?"
They couldn't do more and they wouldn't do less,
Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha!
They ate their whack and they drank their fill,
And I think the rations has made them ill,
For half my comp'ny's lying still
Where the Widow give the party.
"How did you get away -- away,
Johnnie, Johnnie?"
On the broad o' my back at the end o' the day,
Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha!
I comed away like a bleedin' toff,
For I got four niggers to carry me off,
As I lay in the bight of a canvas trough,
When the Widow give the party.
"What was the end of all the show,
Johnnie, Johnnie?"
Ask my Colonel, for ~I~ don't know,
Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha!
We broke a King and we built a road --
A court-house stands where the reg'ment goed.
And the river's clean where the raw blood flowed
When the Widow give the party.
(~Bugle~: Ta--rara--ra-ra-rara!)
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Sonnet: Why Blame?
Why blame the eagle for its swoop on mice?
Why blame the tiger for hunting its prey?
Why blame the drug-peddler for playing dice?
Why blame the donkey when it can but bray?
Why blame the wind that makes the branches sway?
Why blame the snake for its poison-fangs?
Why blame the sun for a hot summer’s day?
Why blame the police for the thieving gangs?
Why blame the night for being dark and cold?
Why blame the devils when they will tempt man?
Why blame our fate when we are getting old?
Why blame the Maker for how Man began?
Why blame the circumstances for our sins?
Why blame the tongue, whenever our words mince?
7-30-2002
poem by John Celes
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A Toast to the Men
Here's to the men! Since Adam's time
They've always been the same;
Whenever anything goes wrong,
The woman is to blame.
From early morn to late at night,
The men fault-finders are;
They blame us if they oversleep,
Or if they miss a car.
They blame us if, beneath the bed,
Their collar buttons roll;
They blame us if the fire is out
Or if there is no coal.
They blame us if they cut themselves
While shaving, and they swear
That we're to blame if they decide
To go upon a tear.
Here's to the men, the perfect men!
Who never are at fault;
They blame us if they chance to get
The pepper for the salt.
They blame us if their business fails,
Or back a losing horse;
And when it rains on holidays
The fault is ours, of course.
They blame us when they fall in love,
And when they married get;
Likewise they blame us when they're sick,
And when they fall in debt.
For everything that crisscross goes
They say we are to blame;
But, after all, here's to the men,
We love them just the same!
poem by Edgar Albert Guest
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Sunday Morning Song
It's not that bad
We could have died
Chalk it up to being young
Prove it was me
On a morning drive
A blurred headlight
From the corner of my eye
If only you were here right now
You'd tell me
Chorus:
Wouldn't it be something
If everything changed
Wouldn't it be something in your way
Wouldn't it be more than
Living in your wake
If you and I would ever cease to be
Your summer dress
A late downpour
And how it caught us on the stairs
That silent song you sing to me
Keeps sayin'
Chorus
We bend, I break
You fall, we scrape
I blame it all on being older now
I'm still singin'
Chorus
song performed by by Howie Day
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blame It On You
Shes got pizzazz
Like a razzmatazz
Id like to slide it in
But where do I begin
Wastes all my money
Spends all my time
I aint got no luck
Cant change her mind
Chorus:
Blame it on you
I cant stand up
Blame it on you
Im keepin my mouth shut
Blame it on you
I cant see straight
Blame it on you
Uh-oh, too late
I want a little reaction
How bout a kiss or two?
She said, jump back honey,
I said, no can do.
Why do you always make a fool out of me?
I cant get no nookie
Just plain to see
Wastes all my money
Spends all my time
I aint got no luck
Cant change her mind
Chorus:
Blame it on you
I cant get no sleep
Blame it on you
Im in six feet deep
Blame it on you
Well I guess its true
Blame it on you
Yes, I do
I blame this whole damn mess, honey
Right on you
Solo
Now listen little girl, let me explain
Why you got me in such a terrible way
First verse
Pre-chorus
Chorus out
song performed by by Poison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: Such Blaming is Futile
Why blame poor Death when it does its duty?
Why blame the land for becoming desert?
Why blame Nature for unleashing fury?
Why blame dame Luck for being so inert?
Why blame the Sun for scorching summer’s heat?
Why blame the winter for its freezing cold?
Why blame the Wind for turning land less neat?
Why blame women for asking diamonds, gold?
Why blame the Sky for not bringing the Rain?
Why blame the Air for becoming so foul?
Why blame the nerves for sensation of pain?
Why blame the devils for your sinful soul?
Why blame the Stars for good or bad life brings?
Why blame your God for bad turn of some things?
poem by John Celes
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Blame It On My Youth
If I expected love when first we kissed
Blame it on my youth
If only just for you I did exist
Blame it on my youth
I believed in everything
Like a child at three
You meant more than everything
All the world to me
If you were on my mind all night and day
Blame it on my youth
If I forgot to eat and sleep and pray
Blame it on my youth
If I cried a little bit
When first I learned the truth
Don't blame it on my heart
Blame it on my-y youth
If you were on my mind all night and day-ay
Blame it on my youth
If I forgot to eat and sleep and pray
Blame it on my youth
If I cried a little bit
When first I learned the truth
Don't blame it on my heart
Blame it on my youth
song performed by by Nat King Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Frankie and Johnnie
Frankie and Johnnie were lovers,
O, my Gawd, how they could love,
They swore to be true to each other,
As true as the stars above;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Frankie was a good woman,
As everybody knows,
Gave her man a hundred dollars,
To get him a suit of clothes;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Frankie and Johnnie went walking,
Johnnie in his bran' new suit,
"Oh, my Gawd," said Frankie,
"But don't my Johnnie look cute?"
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Frankie went down to Memphis,
Went on the morning train,
Paid a hundred dollars,
Got Johnnie a watch and chain;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Frankie lived in a crib-house,
Crib-house with only two doors,
Gave her money to Johnnie,
He spent it on those parlour whores;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Frankie went down to the corner,
Went for a bucket of beer,
She said, "Oh, Mr. Bar-tender,
Has my loving Johnnie been here?
He is my man, and he's done me wrong."
"I won't make you no trouble,
I won't tell you no lie,
But I saw Johnnie an hour ago
With a girl named Nellie Bly;
He is your man, and he's doing you wrong."
Frankie went to the hock-shop,
Bought her a big forty-four,
Aimed that gun at the ceiling,
Shot a big hole in the floor;
"Now where's my man that's doing me wrong?"
Frankie went down to the hook-shop,
Looked in at a window so high,
There she saw her Johnnie,
Loving up Nellie Bly,
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Frankie went up to the front door,
She rang the front-door bell,
Said, "Stand back, all you chippies,
Or I'll blow you all to hell;
I want my man, who's done me wrong."
Frankie went into the hook-shop,
She didn't go there for fun,
'Cause underneath her kimona
She toted that forty-four gun;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Frankie looked in at the keyhole,
And there before her eye,
She saw her Johnnie on the sofa,
A loving up Nellie Bly;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Frankie threw back her kimona,
Took out the little forty-four,
Roota-toot-toot, three times she shoot,
Right through that hardwood door;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Johnnie grabbed off his Stetson,
Said, "Oh, Gawd, Frankie, don't shoot!"
But she pressed hard on the trigger,
And the gun went roota-toot-toot;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
"Roll me over easy,
Oh, roll me over slow,
Roll me over on my right side,
'Cause my left side hurts me so."
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
"Bring out your rubber-tyred buggy,
Bring out your rubber-tyred hack,
I'll take my man to the graveyard,
But I won't bring him back;
He was my man, but he done me wrong."
They brought out the rubber-tyred hearses,
They brought out the rubber-tyred hack,
Thirteen men went to the graveyard,
But only twelve came back;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
"Bring 'round a hundred policemen,
Bring 'em around to-day,
And lock me in that jail-house,
Then throw the key away;
I shot my man, 'cause he done me wrong.
"I've saved up a little money,
I'll save up a little more,
I'll send it all to his widow,
And say it's from the girl next door;
He was my man, but he done me wrong."
Frankie went to the madame,
She fell down on her knees,
"Forgive me, Mrs. Halcome,
Forgive me, if you please;
I've killed my man, 'cause he done me wrong."
"Forgive you, Frankie darling?
Forgive you I never can.
Forgive you, Frankie darling,
For shooting your only man?
For he was your man, though he done you wrong."
Frankie went to the coffin,
Looked down at his face,
Said, "Oh, Lord, have mercy on me,
I'd like to take his place;
He was my man, but he done me wrong."
A rubber-tyred buggy,
A rubber-tyred hack,
Took poor Frankie to the jail-house
But it didn't bring her back;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Frankie sat in her prison,
Had no electric fan,
Told her little sister,
Never marry no sporting man;
"I had a man, but he done me wrong."
The Sheriff took Frankie to the gallows,
Hung her until she died,
They hung her for killing Johnnie,
And the undertaker waited outside;
She killed her man, 'cause he done her wrong.
Frankie and Johnnie
Frankie and Johnnie were lovers,
O, my Gawd, how they could love,
They swore to be true to each other,
As true as the stars above;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Frankie was a good woman,
As everybody knows,
Gave her man a hundred dollars,
To get him a suit of clothes;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Frankie and Johnnie went walking,
Johnnie in his bran' new suit,
"Oh, my Gawd," said Frankie,
"But don't my Johnnie look cute?"
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Frankie went down to Memphis,
Went on the morning train,
Paid a hundred dollars,
Got Johnnie a watch and chain;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Frankie lived in a crib-house,
Crib-house with only two doors,
Gave her money to Johnnie,
He spent it on those parlour whores;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Frankie went down to the corner,
Went for a bucket of beer,
She said, "Oh, Mr. Bar-tender,
Has my loving Johnnie been here?
He is my man, and he's done me wrong."
"I won't make you no trouble,
I won't tell you no lie,
But I saw Johnnie an hour ago
With a girl named Nellie Bly;
He is your man, and he's doing you wrong."
Frankie went to the hock-shop,
Bought her a big forty-four,
Aimed that gun at the ceiling,
Shot a big hole in the floor;
"Now where's my man that's doing me wrong?"
Frankie went down to the hook-shop,
Looked in at a window so high,
There she saw her Johnnie,
Loving up Nellie Bly,
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Frankie went up to the front door,
She rang the front-door bell,
Said, "Stand back, all you chippies,
Or I'll blow you all to hell;
I want my man, who's done me wrong."
Frankie went into the hook-shop,
She didn't go there for fun,
'Cause underneath her kimona
She toted that forty-four gun;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Frankie looked in at the keyhole,
And there before her eye,
She saw her Johnnie on the sofa,
A loving up Nellie Bly;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Frankie threw back her kimona,
Took out the little forty-four,
Roota-toot-toot, three times she shoot,
Right through that hardwood door;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Johnnie grabbed off his Stetson,
Said, "Oh, Gawd, Frankie, don't shoot!"
But she pressed hard on the trigger,
And the gun went roota-toot-toot;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
"Roll me over easy,
Oh, roll me over slow,
Roll me over on my right side,
'Cause my left side hurts me so."
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
"Bring out your rubber-tyred buggy,
Bring out your rubber-tyred hack,
I'll take my man to the graveyard,
But I won't bring him back;
He was my man, but he done me wrong."
They brought out the rubber-tyred hearses,
They brought out the rubber-tyred hack,
Thirteen men went to the graveyard,
But only twelve came back;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
"Bring 'round a hundred policemen,
Bring 'em around to-day,
And lock me in that jail-house,
Then throw the key away;
I shot my man, 'cause he done me wrong.
"I've saved up a little money,
I'll save up a little more,
I'll send it all to his widow,
And say it's from the girl next door;
He was my man, but he done me wrong."
Frankie went to the madame,
She fell down on her knees,
"Forgive me, Mrs. Halcome,
Forgive me, if you please;
I've killed my man, 'cause he done me wrong."
"Forgive you, Frankie darling?
Forgive you I never can.
Forgive you, Frankie darling,
For shooting your only man?
For he was your man, though he done you wrong."
Frankie went to the coffin,
Looked down at his face,
Said, "Oh, Lord, have mercy on me,
I'd like to take his place;
He was my man, but he done me wrong."
A rubber-tyred buggy,
A rubber-tyred hack,
Took poor Frankie to the jail-house
But it didn't bring her back;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Frankie sat in her prison,
Had no electric fan,
Told her little sister,
Never marry no sporting man;
"I had a man, but he done me wrong."
The Sheriff took Frankie to the gallows,
Hung her until she died,
They hung her for killing Johnnie,
And the undertaker waited outside;
She killed her man, 'cause he done her wrong.
poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Well
Recorded live at new york's fillmore east, 6 june 1971
-"hey! sit down and cool it for a minute so we can hear what we're gonna do. and those of you in the band
Who have no idea what's about to happen, this is in a minor and it's not standard blues changes."
-"oh, my god!"
-"but it's close!"
-"this is a song that i used to sing when i was in the cavern in liverpool. i haven't done it since so..."
Two, three, four!
You know i love you, baby, please don't go, well, well;
You know i love you, baby, please don't go, well, well,
You know i love you, honey child,
There's nothing that i wouldn't do for you at night.
You know i love you, baby, please don't go, well.
You know i love you, baby, please don't go;
You know i love you, baby, please don't go, uh -
You know i love you, honey child,
There's nothing that i wouldn't do for you at night.
You know i love you, baby, please don't go, well.
Zappa!
You know i want you, baby, please don't go, well, well;
You know i want you, baby, please don't go,
You know i love you, honey child,
There's nothing that i wouldn't do for you right now.
You know i want you, baby, please don't go, well.
Well, you know i love you, baby, please don't go, well;
You know i love you, baby, please don't go,
You know i love you, honey child,
Nothing that i wouldn't do for you right now.
I know i love you, baby, please don't go, well, well.
Hey!
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What I Wouldn't Give
What I wouldn't give
To dance by the light of the moon
To revel in the soft glow of dawn
And to watch sunset with you
What I wouldn't give
To watch your pupils dilate with longing
Your eyes narrow with love
Your smile full of laughter
What I wouldn't give
For just one day with you
Without another's judgement
With nobody else watching
What I wouldn't give
For a night alone with you
To please you, and hold you
With love in my heart
What I wouldn't give
To kindle your desire
To be needed as desperately as
I need for you
What I wouldn't give
To be held in your arms
To feel your soft lips on mine
To feel your caress on my cheek
What I wouldn't give
For your need to be mirrored by my own
For your love to shine through your eyes
And for you to be mine unconditionally
What I wouldn't give…
poem by Gwenevere Cornwell
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Who To Blame But Myself?
WHO TO BLAME BUT MYSELF?
Who to blame but myself?
I did not even know
I was not doing alright.
Who to blame but G-d
For before I was myself
God made me.
Who to blame
When life does not work out
As we wanted it to?
Ourselves?
God?
Who knows?
I am just one small person
In a universe of billions of living things
Billions already dead.
Why is it so important
What I have done or not done?
Why do I care so much now
When I know I too one day
Perhaps sooner than I expect
I will also not know and care?
Oh God Oh God
What is to be done about all this?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Court
You tripped out of your car
You rolled across the road
Didn’t know what your eyes could see
Your balance let you free.
You’re waiting for someone to pick you up
While waiting you became a part of the road
You let people drive over you
And poison you with car smoke.
You blame the slippery road
You blame your worn out shoes
The truth remains that you fell
But instead of standing up you sue
Don’t blame the shoes you walk in
Blame the feet walking in them.
poem by Mehreen Mujeeb
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Johnnie Comes Back
All last week and half of today
Johnnie has been a good little girl
Trying to keep her devils at bay
Watching her health return
But she always comes back for more
Hanging her head and banging my door
Johnnie comes back again
(chorus)
I said, johnnie remember
Oh johnnie be good
Please give me some medicine man
Oh johnnie comes back again
Whered she get that tear in her eye
Whoever said she could leave me
Whered she learn to say good-bye
Shes been watching too much t.v.
She only shows up for meals
My medicine chest and my automobiles
Johnnie comes back again
- chorus -
Me Im just an evil demon
Im playing on her weakness
Counting on her sickness
To bring her home again
To use me up and to rob me blind
I guess it shouldnt surprise me
Fighting and flashing like a fish on a line
My god, she must despise me
But she always comes back again
Now it wont be long til shes gone again
Johnnie comes back again
- chorus -
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Blame You
Ten miles from nowhere
Theres a story thats true
About a fine girl
And a boy just like you
They fell so deeply
But then fell apart
Now they say the same words
Of what used to be
What used to be
I blame you (I blame you)
I blame you (I blame you)
I blame you (I blame you)
He drops his car keys
And crawls on the ground
Finds her old haircomb
Shed wear into town
Cant bear to keep it
Or throw it away
Gets back down on his kness
Put it back where it lay
Back where it lay
I blame you (I blame you)
I blame you (I blame you)
I blame you (I blame you)
Notes
There is a different song on dial-a-song with the same tune as this. it is titled free birds rebirth, and goes:
Listen dear people
To a story so sad
About a poor boy
Who never went bad
He got some chain mail
But he broke the chain
Now he must sing free bird
Again and again
Again and again
Again and again
Free bird
Free bird
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cross My Heart And Hope To Die
I can explain about last night
Though things didn't look just right
Please believe me there was nothing wrong
I thought about you baby all night long
Cross my heart, I hope to die
Well I wouldn't tell you no lie, mmm
Talk about a piece of rotten luck
You do a friend a favor and you wind up stuck
She couldn't hold a candle to you, no siree
Very hard to handle like a Model T
Cross my heart, I hope to die
Well I wouldn't tell you no lie
Please believe me when I say
Wild horses couldn't drag me away
From you 'cause I don't have to look too hard
To see what I've got in my own back yard
So please forgive me and forget
Don't say my alloy's all wet (?)
I miss those kisses from your honeycomb
This humble bumble bee just wants to fly back home
Cross my heart, I hope to die
Well I wouldn't tell you no lie
I wouldn't tell you no lie
No no no no no no
I wouldn't tell you no lie
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If You Wouldn't Be My Lady
Take away the song a songbird sings
Take away the sound that laughter brings
Take the music from a melody
Never take your love away from me
You make me smile
You make darkness turn into warm sunshine
You give me love
The Lord above knows
I wouldn't know what to do if you wouldn't be my lady
I wouldn't know what to do if you weren't here today
I wouldn't know what to do if you wouldn't be my lady
I wouldn't know what to do if you weren't here to stay
Take away the gentle summer breeze
Take away the golden autumn leaves
I can live without blue skies above
But I could never live without your love
You give me life
You make bad times turn into the good times
You give me love
The Lord above knows
I wouldn't know what to do if you wouldn't be my lady
I wouldn't know what to do if you weren't here to stay
I wouldn't know what to do if you wouldn't be my lady
I wouldn't know what to do if you weren't here to stay
I wouldn't know what to do if you wouldn't be my lady
I wouldn't know what to do if you weren't here today
I wouldn't know what to do if you wouldn't be my lady
song performed by by Charlie Rich, lyrics by Jimmy Holiday & Eddie Reeves from Behind Closed Doors (1973)
Submitted by Jeffrey Kosloske
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Blame It On The Stones
Mister marvin middle class is really in a stew
Wondrin what the younger generations coming to
And the taste of his martini doesnt please his bitter tongue
Blame it on the rolling stones.
Blame it on the stones; blame it on the stones
Youll feel so much better, knowing you dont stand alone
Join the accusation; save the bleeding nation
Get it off your shoulders; blame it on the stones
Mother tells the ladies at the bridge club every day
Of the rising price of tranquilizers she must pay
And she wonders why the children never seem to stay at home
Blame it on the rolling stones.
Blame it on the stones; blame it on the stones
Youll feel so much better, knowing you dont stand alone
Join the accusation; save the bleeding nation
Get it off your shoulders; blame it on the stones
Fathers at the office, nightly working all the time
Trying to make the secretary change her little mind
And it bothers him to read about so many broken homes
Blame it on those rolling stones.
Blame it on the stones; blame it on the stones
Youll feel so much better knowing you dont stand alone
Join the accusation; same the bleeding nation
Get it off your shoulders; blame it on the stones
Blame it on the stones, blame it on the stones.
song performed by by Kris Kristofferson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Judging Their Sacrifices
Wouldn't it be nice,
If all it took to live our lives...
Was to sit and blame others,
For what they should do...
To improve 'our' quality of existence.
And those we observe,
Living below those standards...
We believe we deserve,
Would be accused of not fulfilling...
Their potential.
And all we had to do was to approve,
Those things done they do...
By judging their sacrifices.
Wouldn't it be nice...
If all we had to do was demand fresh ice,
For the soft drinks we drank while sitting to complain.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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