My Seattle friend Abby’s having a party this weekend, and the theme is hillbillies and hicks. I was commissioned to write some songs for the occasion, and they follow (not for the easily offended or bemulleted):
Oh, Bandana
[ To the tune of Oh, Susanna, available here ]
My hair’s a wreck from the bed last night,
but in my drunken stupor I know,
It’s short on top, and long in back,
and it’s swingin’ to and fro’.
[ CHORUS ]
Oh bandana, oh please hear what I’ve said,
for I come from Alabama with a mullet on my head.
I woke up this morn’, hungover true,
my bedfellow I did spy,
At first I’s lost, then I recognized,
my longlost cousin Fry.
[ CHORUS ]
Now before you think this wrong my friend,
let me assure you that it’s not,
since the last time we met, my cousin Fry’s
becomin’ rather hot.
[ CHORUS ]
The moral of the story I guess,
is don’t get drunk and screw,
‘cause if you do, you never know,
your cousin could end up with you.
[ CHORUS ]
———————————
Smalltown Faces
[ To the tune of Camptown Races, available here ]
Smalltown faces look like me, doo-da, doo-da
all’s the people’s my family, oh, doo-da day.
Grandpa Paul he married his kid, doo-da, doo-da
Now his family tree’s inbred, oh, doo-da day.
Paul’s an uncle now,
he’s their cousin too,
He’s got lots of mouths to feed,
and we live in a shoe.
My sister’s got eyes like mine, doo-da, doo-da
And it’s true, she’s lookin’ fine, oh, doo-da day.
I’ll ask for her hand one day, doo-da, doo-da
Assumin’ I can beat my brother Jay, oh, doo-da day.
He’s only got nine toes,
the tenth got lost somewhere,
I’d be a sure bet to marry her,
‘cept I got no hair.
My other brother’s named Andrew, doo-da, doo-da
But he’s no worry ‘cause he’s 3-foot-2, oh, doo-da day.
And if to her I can’t be wed, doo-da, doo-da
it’s for sure I’ll end up dead, oh, doo-da day.
Gonna go away,
I’ll be wearin’ a frown,
leavin’ the holler is hard to do,
Podunk’s my kind of town.
