They used to tell me I was building a dream
And so I followed the mob
When there was earth to plow or guns to bear
I was always there, right on the job
They used to tell me I was building a dream
With peace and glory ahead
Why should I be standing in line
Just waiting for bread?
Once I built a railroad, I made it run
Made it race against time
Once I built a railroad, now it's done
Brother, can you spare a dime?
Once I built a tower up to the sun
Brick and rivet and lime
Once I built a tower, now it's done
Brother, can you spare a dime?
Once in khaki suits, gee, we looked swell
Full of that Yankee Doodly Dum
Half a million boots went slogging through Hell
And I was the kid with the drum
Say, don't you remember?
They called me 'Al'
It was 'Al' all the time
Why don't you remember?
I'm your pal
Say buddy, can you spare a dime?
11 comments:
n a summer day
In the month of July
A lawn boy came hiking
Down a shady lane
A sanctimonious bane
He was looking for his liking
As he roamed along
He sang a song
Of his Law Professor suger mommy
Where a bum can stay
For many a day
And he can live off Althouse's money
Oh the buzzin' of the bees
In the cafe trees
Near the foaming latte fountain
At the lemonade springs
Where the bluebird sings
On the Althouse candy mountain
There's a lake of gin
We can both jump in
And the boxwine grow on bushes
In the new-mown hay
We can sleep all day
And the bars all have free lunches
Where the Amazon portal stops
And there ain't no cops
And the commentators are tender-hearted
Where you never change your socks
And commentators never throw rocks
And your hair is never parted
One evening as the sun went down
And the scented candles were burning,
Down the path came the lawn boy hiking,
He said, "Boys, I'm not turning
I'm heading for a land that's far away
Beside the crystal fountain
I'll see you all this coming fall
At the Althouse Candy Mountain
At the Althouse Candy Mountain,
It's a land that's liberal and bright,
The homophobes are gone
And you can chat them them all night.
The cafes are all empty
And the links all faded away
I'm bound to go
Where there ain't no snow (well at least till October)
Where the sleet don't fall
And the winds don't blow
At the the Althouse Mountain.
At The Althouse Candy Mountain
Ann has taken away Meade's cock
And little streams of alkyhol
Come trickling down the rocks
O the commentators all have to tip their hats
And any self reflection is blind
There's a slow cooker of stew
And cheese curds too
And you can't have any
It's not for you
At the Althouse Candy Mountain
At the Althouse Candy Mountain
They like to call Troop fat
The bulldog is actually Inga
And they have no traffic left
The Amazon commissions are empty
They fell right off the map
I'm bound to go
Where they all blow
Where the sleet does fall
And the winds does blow
At the Althouse Candy Mountain.
I tip my hat to you, Evi. I tried that once before and gave up after one verse: link
It is hardly perfect, but I just wanted to show Meade for the moochey douche he is.
Don't Worry, Be Happy
If I were that lawn boy I couldn't keep up
With the lady of the house,
Thought an earnest not her spouse --
Blind to the power of the creative shtoop.
The cigarette trees
And the Audi TTs
That's all I have.
Moo to You Evi! The full laugh broke out here:
O the commentators all have to tip their hats
And any self reflection is blind
There's a slow cooker of stew
And cheese curds too
And you can't have any
It's not for you
At the Althouse Candy Mountain
With Madison Downfall, the laughter started with "Anyone who has ever even looked at Trooper York or EBL's blog leave the room immediately" and eventually scared the cats because it kept going and neither they nor I could make it stop!
Well done. Also appreciated the shark video, but am lost in the world of comments right now, wishing for a slow day to catch up.
If I were a lawn boy
And you were a lady
Would you nibble my goy (pickle)?
Would you be my gravy (train)?
I'm trying...too hard.
What a heat spell up here! A three shower day. A three shower day. What was that ditty on Gilligan's Island...a three hour cruise?
The cigarette trees,
The Audi TTs,
The smelly hip-ees,
As smug as you please.
There was more. Not in a good way, but there it is.
Three hour _tour_.
Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale,
A tale of a fateful trip
That started from this tropic port
Aboard this tiny ship.
The mate was a mighty sailing man,
The skipper brave and sure.
Five passengers set sail that day
For a three hour tour, a three hour tour.
The weather started getting rough,
The tiny ship was tossed,
If not for the courage of the fearless crew
The minnow would be lost, the minnow would be lost.
The ship set ground on the shore of this uncharted desert isle
With Gilligan
The Skipper too,
The millionaire and his wife,
The movie star
The professor and Mary Ann,
Here on Gilligans Isle.
So this is the talel of the castways,
They're here for a long, long time,
They'll have to make the best of things,
It's an uphill climb.
The first mate and the Skipper too,
Will do their very best,
To make the others comfortable,
In the tropic island nest.
No phone, no lights no motor cars,
Not a single luxury,
Like Robinson Crusoe,
As primative as can be.
So join us here each week my freinds,
You're sure to get a smile,
From seven stranded castways,
Here on "Gilligan's Isle."
For El Pollo and the Court Jesters
Get it? Got it? Good!
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