<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993</id><updated>2011-07-28T16:26:22.043-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Way With Words</title><subtitle type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Music hath charms...
&lt;br&gt;But the words have the power.&lt;/b&gt;
&lt;p&gt;
Don't you have a favorite line from some song? One that really hits home? Sends little shivers up your spine and raises the hairs on your arms? Vividly recalls a special moment, perhaps? Or, piques your envy by clever use of language? Perhaps it evokes an intense image or other reaction, like fingernails on a blackboard -- or it just tickles your fancy.

This page presents some of the lyrics that affect me in those ways.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>43</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-3130108076381848458</id><published>2010-09-27T20:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-27T20:44:46.889-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Un-Break My Heart</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;i&gt;
Diane Warren
Toni Braxton
&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;small&gt;Arista 1996&lt;/small&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
Un-cry these tears
I cried so many nights
Un-break my heart
My heart
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;p&gt;
Writer Warren thought that the title &lt;q&gt;Un-Break My Heart&lt;/q&gt; was a winner. So do I! And so it was, for 11 weeks, on the Pop charts.
&lt;p&gt;
The use of the prefix &lt;q&gt;Un-&lt;/q&gt;, which normally implies a reversal of action, is ironic in this case because tears, once cried, cannot be undone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-3130108076381848458?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.allmusic.com/cg/amg.dll?p=amg&amp;sql=33:jnfuxz85ldfe' title='Un-Break My Heart'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/3130108076381848458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=3130108076381848458&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/3130108076381848458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/3130108076381848458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2010/09/un-break-my-heart.html' title='Un-Break My Heart'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-8927800958648128612</id><published>2010-09-27T18:23:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-27T20:49:28.633-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Smile</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;i&gt;
Bose, Jeremy; Daly, Blair; Harding, J; Shafer, Matthew
&lt;br&gt;
&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uncle_Kracker"&gt;Uncle Kracker&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;small&gt;Atlantic 2009&lt;/small&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
You make me smile like the sun, fall out of bed
Sing like bird, dizzy in my head
Spin like a record, crazy on a Sunday night

You make me dance like a fool, forget how to breathe
Shine like gold, buzz like a bee
Just the thought of you can drive me wild
Oh, you make me smile
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;p&gt;
Reminds me of the first time a girl really kissed me -- I mean 
&lt;u&gt;really&lt;/u&gt; kissed me! I almost fainted!
&lt;p&gt;
Lots of evocative similes in there. I particularly like the trope in the first verse comparing her to the cool spot on his pillow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-8927800958648128612?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.allmusic.com/cg/amg.dll?p=amg&amp;sql=33:hz5oxmwaldje' title='Smile'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/8927800958648128612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=8927800958648128612&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/8927800958648128612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/8927800958648128612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2010/09/smile.html' title='Smile'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-9136238166053659635</id><published>2008-12-20T01:35:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-20T02:28:32.047-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ironic  </title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;i&gt;
Ballard, Morissette
&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alanis_Morissette"&gt;Alanis Morissette&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;small&gt;Maverick/Reprise 1995&lt;/small&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
And isn't it ironic... don't you think

&amp;nbsp;It's like rain on your wedding day
&amp;nbsp;It's a free ride when you've already paid
&amp;nbsp;It's the good advice that you just didn't take
&amp;nbsp;Who would've thought... it figures
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;p&gt;
No, it isn't. It's just bad luck, or bad judgment.
&lt;p&gt;
The &lt;cite&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.tfd.com/ironic"&gt;American Heritage Dictionary&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/cite&gt; notes that &lt;q&gt;The words ironic, irony, and ironically are sometimes used of events and circumstances that might better be described as simply "coincidental" or "improbable," in that they suggest no particular lessons about human vanity or folly.&lt;/q&gt;
&lt;p&gt;
Sorry, girl.&lt;br&gt;
Better luck next time!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-9136238166053659635?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/9136238166053659635/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=9136238166053659635&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/9136238166053659635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/9136238166053659635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2008/12/ironic.html' title='Ironic  &lt;img align=top alt=&quot;&quot; border=0 src=&quot;http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7828/302/200/face1.gif&quot;&gt;'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-300666743262596912</id><published>2008-12-19T23:31:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-19T23:35:24.976-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Christmas Shoes</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;i&gt;
Ahlstrom, Carswell 
NewSong 
&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;small&gt;Reunion 2001&lt;/small&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
Sir I wanna buy these shoes for my Momma please
It's Christmas Eve and these shoes are just her size
Could you hurry Sir?
Daddy says there's not much time
You see, she's been sick for quite a while
And I know these shoes will make her smile
And I want her to look beautiful
If Momma meets Jesus, tonight.
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
Shamelessly mawkish -- but it works every time.
I get choked up even thinking about it! I can't help it. I guess that I'm just a sentimental old fool.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-300666743262596912?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/300666743262596912/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=300666743262596912&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/300666743262596912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/300666743262596912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2008/12/christmas-shoes.html' title='The Christmas Shoes'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-207134244453625305</id><published>2007-03-07T19:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-17T01:39:09.019-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Vincent</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;i&gt;
w/m Don McLean
Don McLean
&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;small&gt;BGO 1971&lt;/small&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
Starry,
starry night
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7bI5M0RJh3I/Re9iCK2KpqI/AAAAAAAAAAo/t-W7oGFabeU/s1600-h/images-29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7bI5M0RJh3I/Re9iCK2KpqI/AAAAAAAAAAo/t-W7oGFabeU/s200/images-29.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5039354297461679778" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
Five notes: five syllables. Who cannot name this extraordinary song from these few clues. And so powerful is the association with the Van Gogh painting that the song is more often known by that pseudo title.
&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;
The song, of course, is about Vincent Van Gogh -- but "about" is too weak a word. The writer has come to &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;understand&lt;/span&gt; Van Gogh, to &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grok"&gt;grok&lt;/a&gt; his art and his life, and explains in the refrain:
&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
And now I understand what you tried to say to me
how you suffered for your sanity
how you tried to set them free.
They would not listen
they did not know how
perhaps they'll listen now.
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;p&gt;
He goes on:&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
For they could not love you
but still your love was true
and when no hope was left in sight on that starry
starry night.
You took your life
as lovers often do;
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;p&gt;
This is poetry: language distilled to its essence. Omit one word and there is diminishment. 
&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-207134244453625305?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vincent_(song)' title='Vincent'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/207134244453625305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=207134244453625305&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/207134244453625305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/207134244453625305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2007/03/vincent.html' title='Vincent'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7bI5M0RJh3I/Re9iCK2KpqI/AAAAAAAAAAo/t-W7oGFabeU/s72-c/images-29.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-115124513253461386</id><published>2006-06-25T10:05:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-01T08:13:59.791-04:00</updated><title type='text'>You'll Think Of Me</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;i&gt;
Matkosky, Brown, Lacy
Keith Urban
&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;small&gt;Angel 2006&lt;/small&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
Take your records, take your freedom
Take your memories I don't need 'em
Take your space and take your reasons
But you'll think of me
And take your cat and leave my sweater
'Cause we have nothing left to weather
In fact I'll feel a whole lot better
But you'll think of me, you'll think of me
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;p&gt;
This song has gotten lots of air time recently, and I've grown to appreciate these lyrics of the refrain. I can almost picture those heated arguments -- after &lt;u&gt;her&lt;/u&gt; infidelity! A most eloquent kicking to the curb.
&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;
I particularly like how he lists the things that she should take, things that she had said that she needs: her space, her freedom.
&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;
And don't forget your cat!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-115124513253461386?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/115124513253461386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=115124513253461386&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/115124513253461386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/115124513253461386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2006/06/youll-think-of-me.html' title='You&apos;ll Think Of Me'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-114896556424962922</id><published>2006-05-30T00:46:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-30T03:58:13.596-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Rest Your Love On Me</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;i&gt;
Barry Gibb
The Bee Gees
&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;small&gt;RSO 1978
(All royalties donated to UNICEF by the Bee Gees.)
&lt;/small&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
Lay your troubles on my shoulder
Put your worries in my pocket
Rest your love on me awhile 
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;p&gt;
I just find these words comforting.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-114896556424962922?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/114896556424962922/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=114896556424962922&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114896556424962922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114896556424962922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2006/05/rest-your-love-on-me.html' title='Rest Your Love On Me'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-114329148128924863</id><published>2006-03-25T07:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-25T08:28:27.730-05:00</updated><title type='text'>You're Beautiful </title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;i&gt;
James Blunt
James Blunt
&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;small&gt;Atlantic/Custard 2005&lt;/small&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
I saw an angel.
Of that I'm sure.
She smiled at me on the subway.
She was with another man.
* * *
I saw your face in a crowded place,
And I don't know what to do,
'Cause I'll never be with you.
* * *
But it's time to face the truth,
I will never be with you.
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;q&gt;Yes,&lt;/q&gt; as a DJ on a local station put it,
&lt;q&gt;Give it up. It was probably just gas.&lt;/q&gt;
&lt;p&gt;
That image is stuck in my mind and 
pops up whenever this song comes on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-114329148128924863?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/114329148128924863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=114329148128924863&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114329148128924863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114329148128924863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2006/03/youre-beautiful.html' title='You&apos;re Beautiful &lt;img align=top alt=&quot;&quot; border=0 src=&quot;http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7828/302/200/face1.gif&quot;&gt;'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-114191203152158846</id><published>2006-03-09T07:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-25T08:11:04.550-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Drops Of Jupiter (Tell Me) </title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Train (Colin, Hotchkiss, Monahan, Stafford, Underwood)
Train&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;Small&gt;Sony 2001&lt;/small&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
Now that she's back in the atmosphere
With drops of Jupiter in her hair, hey, hey 
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
Hey, hey! That ain't Jupiter, Jack!

(OK, I have a dirty mind. I admit it -- with pride!)
&lt;blockquote&gt;
She acts like summer and walks like rain
...
She listens like spring and she talks like June, hey, hey 
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
Hey, hey! Meaningless &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Simile"&gt;similes&lt;/a&gt; masquerading as meaty substance, &lt;a href="http://www.tfd.com/tedding"&gt;tedding&lt;/a&gt; their way, way.

I'm sorry, but I don't hold this song in the high regard most do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-114191203152158846?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/114191203152158846/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=114191203152158846&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114191203152158846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114191203152158846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2006/03/drops-of-jupiter-tell-me.html' title='Drops Of Jupiter (Tell Me) &lt;img align=top alt=&quot;&quot; border=0 src=&quot;http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7828/302/200/face1.gif&quot;&gt;'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-114176539204883765</id><published>2006-03-07T15:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-10T14:37:12.866-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Who Wants To Live Forever</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brian_May"&gt;Brian May&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Queen_%28band%29"&gt;Queen&lt;/a&gt; (J. Deacon, B. May, F. Mercury, R. Taylor)
&lt;u&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Kind_of_Magic"&gt;It's a Kind Of Magic&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/u&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;
Capitol 1986
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
Who wants to live forever
Who wants to live forever?

Who dares to love forever?
When love must die
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
This song makes me very sad.
&lt;p&gt;
Although the official word is that &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Freddie_Mercury"&gt;Freddie Mercury&lt;/a&gt; was diagnosed with &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/HIV"&gt;HIV&lt;/a&gt; early in 1987, I am convinced that he knew sometime before that, perhaps as long as a year before. Brian May composed this song for the soundtrack of the movie &lt;cite&gt;Highlander&lt;/cite&gt;, but I can't help thinking that he, too, knew of or suspected Freddie's health problems. What makes this cut all the more poigniant is their &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Queen_Live_At_Wembley_Stadium"&gt;performance at Wembley&lt;/a&gt; in July, shortly after the release of &lt;cite&gt;Magic&lt;/cite&gt;.
&lt;p&gt;
At one point, Freddie teases the Wembley crowd of 75,000 that there was a rumour going around that Queen might be breaking up, but then reassures them that they would be together &lt;q&gt;until we fucking well die, I'm sure!&lt;/q&gt;. The next song was &lt;cite&gt;Who Wants To Live Forever&lt;/cite&gt;.
&lt;p&gt;
Tell me that he did not know then his approaching doom!
&lt;br&gt;Freddie Mercury died of AIDS 24 Nov 1991.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-114176539204883765?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/114176539204883765/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=114176539204883765&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114176539204883765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114176539204883765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2006/03/who-wants-to-live-forever.html' title='Who Wants To Live Forever'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-114173550971989627</id><published>2006-03-07T07:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-09T13:44:45.006-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Rocky Raccoon</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;i&gt;w/m John Lennon &amp; Paul McCartney
The Beatles&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;small&gt;Apple 1969&lt;/small&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
Her name was Magil and she called herself Lil
But everyone knew her as Nancy.
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
Anyone who has spent any time tracing their roots will recognize this. It's what makes some people, shall we say, difficult to find. I have adopted these lines as the motto for my &lt;a href="http://freepages.genealogy.rootsweb.com/~dav4is/#TOP"&gt;genealogy site&lt;/a&gt;.
&lt;p&gt;
There is a cute phrase a few lines further on. After he is shot, Rocky says:
&lt;blockquote&gt;
  Doc, it's only a scratch
And I'll be better -- I'll be better, Doc, 
  as soon as I am able.
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
A mere flesh wound. It calls to mind a line from &lt;cite&gt;Monty Python and the Holy Grail&lt;/cite&gt; (1975). After having both arms hacked off, the Black Knight says to his attacker, who expects him to yield, &lt;q&gt;It's just a flesh wound.&lt;/q&gt; 
&lt;p&gt;
Indeed, the impact Monty Python had on the state of comedy has been compared to that of The Beatles on music.
&lt;p&gt;
&lt;small&gt;
&lt;u&gt;Figures&lt;/u&gt;: &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Epanalepsis"&gt;Epanalepsis&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anaphora"&gt;Anaphora&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Irony"&gt;Irony&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Meiosis_%28figure_of_speech%29"&gt;Meiosis&lt;/a&gt; 
&lt;/small&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-114173550971989627?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/114173550971989627/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=114173550971989627&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114173550971989627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114173550971989627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2006/03/rocky-raccoon.html' title='Rocky Raccoon'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-114152642293306474</id><published>2006-03-04T21:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-25T08:34:29.460-05:00</updated><title type='text'>(Have Some) Madeira, M'Dear</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flanders_and_Swann"&gt;Flanders &amp;amp; Swann&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Limeliters"&gt;The Limeliters&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;small&gt;RCA 1961&lt;/small&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
She was young, she was pure, she was new, 
   she was nice
She was fair, she was sweet seventeen.
He was old, he was vile, and no stranger to vice
He was base, he was bad, he was mean.
He had slyly inveigled her up to his flat
To view his collection of stamps,
And he said as he hastened to put out the cat,
The wine, his cigar and the lamps:

Have some &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Madeira_wine"&gt;madeira&lt;/a&gt;, m'dear
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
A cute little Edwardian ditty. And more word-play. First we see the &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Figure_of_speech#Schemes"&gt;scheme&lt;/a&gt; of &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anaphora"&gt;anaphora&lt;/a&gt; twice repeated, first the six &lt;q&gt;she was&lt;/q&gt; clauses, followed by the five &lt;q&gt;he was&lt;/q&gt; clauses. Then there is the  &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trope"&gt;trope&lt;/a&gt; of &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Syllepsis"&gt;syllepsis&lt;/a&gt;, which appears three times in the song: one verb or verb phrase (to put out, in this case) is here made to do quadruple duty, used in four different senses with four different objects: 1) the cat, 2) the wine, 3) his cigar, and 4) the lamps.
&lt;blockquote&gt;
She lowered her standards by raising her glass,
Her courage, her eyes and his hopes.
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
Another syllepsis, combined this time with the contrast (&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Antithesis"&gt;antithesis&lt;/a&gt;) of the &lt;em&gt;lowering&lt;/em&gt; her standards with the &lt;em&gt;raising&lt;/em&gt; of the other things. The next example requires a little more of the lyric to make sense:
&lt;blockquote&gt;
Then there flashed through her mind 
   what her mother had said
With her antepenultimate breath,
"Oh my child, should you look on the wine 
   that is red
Be prepared for a fate worse than death!"
She let go her glass with a shrill little cry,
Crash! Tinkle! it fell to the floor;
When he asked, "What in Heaven?" 
   She made no reply,
Up her mind, and a dash for the door.
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
Never fear: He gets her in the end!
&lt;p&gt;
And how about that use of &lt;em&gt;antepenultimate&lt;/em&gt;? Her penultimate breath would be her next to last, and her antepenultimate breath would be the one before that!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-114152642293306474?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/114152642293306474/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=114152642293306474&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114152642293306474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114152642293306474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2006/03/have-some-madeira-mdear.html' title='(Have Some) Madeira, M&apos;Dear'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-114146080631717175</id><published>2006-03-04T03:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-31T16:09:49.643-05:00</updated><title type='text'>You're the One That I Want</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="TAG"&gt;&lt;i&gt;w/m &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Farrar"&gt;John Farrar&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Olivia_Newton-John"&gt;Olivia Newton-John&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Travolta"&gt;John Travolta&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;small&gt;MCA 1978&lt;/small&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
If you're filled
with affection
you're too shy to convey,
meditate in my direction.
Feel your way.
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
Ooo, Sandy! &lt;em&gt;Feel&lt;/em&gt; my way?
&lt;p&gt;
This lyric epitomizes the character change Sandy experienced, from a demure, proper girl to a passionate woman. Curiously, Ms Newton-John seems to have experienced a similar transformation in her personal life at that time! Just look at her recordings: before &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grease_%28musical%29"&gt;&lt;cite&gt;Grease&lt;/cite&gt;&lt;/a&gt; they were typified by such tracks as &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/I_Honestly_Love_You"&gt;&lt;cite&gt;I Honestly Love You&lt;/cite&gt;&lt;/a&gt; (1974), or &lt;cite&gt;Please Mr. Please&lt;/cite&gt; (1975). After the &lt;cite&gt;Grease&lt;/cite&gt; experience she gives us tunes like &lt;cite&gt;Totally Hot&lt;/cite&gt; (1978) and &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Physical_%28Olivia_Newton-John_song%29"&gt;&lt;cite&gt;Physical&lt;/cite&gt;&lt;/a&gt; (1981).
&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;
Things that make you go &lt;em&gt;hmmm&lt;/em&gt;!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-114146080631717175?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/You%27re_The_One_That_I_Want' title='You&apos;re the One That I Want'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/114146080631717175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=114146080631717175&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114146080631717175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114146080631717175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2006/03/youre-one-that-i-want.html' title='You&apos;re the One That I Want'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-114146048468250205</id><published>2006-03-04T03:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-31T16:11:27.256-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Total Eclipse of the Heart</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jim_Steinman"&gt;Jim Steinman&lt;/a&gt; 
&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bonnie_Tyler"&gt;Bonnie Tyler&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;small&gt;Columbia 1983&lt;/small&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
We're living in a powder keg 
   and giving off sparks
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
What a powerful image of an explosive relationship on a short fuse. You can almost hear the crashing crockery! I am convinced that metaphor is a key player in most successful poetry -- and there's plenty of metaphor and other figures throughout this wonderful song. The bridge, in particular, really grabs me:
&lt;blockquote&gt;
Once upon a time I was falling in love
   but now I'm only falling apart.
There's nothing I can do - 
   a total eclipse of the heart

Once upon a time there was light in my life
   but now there's only love in the dark.
Nothing I can say - 
   a total eclipse of the heart
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
I love the paired contrasting images drawn with similar words, a visual rhyme:
&lt;div style="padding-left:3em;white-space:pre"&gt;
&lt;u&gt;falling in love&lt;/u&gt; &lt;i&gt;vs&lt;/i&gt; &lt;u&gt;falling apart&lt;/u&gt;
&lt;u&gt;light in my life&lt;/u&gt; &lt;i&gt;vs&lt;/i&gt; &lt;u&gt;love in the dark&lt;/u&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;
Bonnie Tyler's slightly husky voice lends just the right note of anxious desperation in a perfect rendition.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-114146048468250205?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Total_Eclipse_Of_The_Heart' title='Total Eclipse of the Heart'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/114146048468250205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=114146048468250205&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114146048468250205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114146048468250205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2006/03/total-eclipse-of-heart.html' title='Total Eclipse of the Heart'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-114146004957861417</id><published>2006-03-04T03:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-07T08:25:04.270-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Time In a Bottle</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jim_Croce"&gt;Jim Croce&lt;/a&gt;
Jim Croce&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;small&gt;ABC 1973&lt;/small&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
If I could save time in a bottle
The first thing that I'd like to do
Is to save every day 
   'til eternity passes away
Just to spend them with you
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
Perhaps the prettiest song in modern popular music, &lt;cite&gt;Time In a Bottle&lt;/cite&gt; is itself an exquisite scarab in amber. And the main metaphor, of corking up time itself to allow replaying the good parts, is very appealing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-114146004957861417?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/114146004957861417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=114146004957861417&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114146004957861417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114146004957861417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2006/03/time-in-bottle.html' title='Time In a Bottle'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-114145934706219400</id><published>2006-03-04T03:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-07T08:26:09.736-05:00</updated><title type='text'>These Boots Are Made For Walking </title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lee_Hazlewood"&gt;Lee Hazlewood&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nancy_Sinatra"&gt;Nancy Sinatra&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/I&gt;
&lt;small&gt;Reprise 1966&lt;/small&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt; 
You keep lyin' when you oughta be truthin'
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
Puh-leeese! And the whole song is like this! Although this is some kind of figure of speech, it is just too painfully sophomoric. Hazlewood should be have had his hands broken for inflicting this monstrosity on humankind! At least they found a perfect match in the performer.
&lt;p&gt;
And it was a #1 gold record! Go figure!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-114145934706219400?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/114145934706219400/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=114145934706219400&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145934706219400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145934706219400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2006/03/these-boots-are-made-for-walking.html' title='These Boots Are Made For Walking &lt;img align=top alt=&quot;&quot; border=0 src=&quot;http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7828/302/200/face1.gif&quot;&gt;'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-114145797551213375</id><published>2006-03-04T02:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-07T08:27:16.740-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Precious and Few </title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Walter Nims
Climax&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;small&gt;Carousel 1972&lt;/small&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
Precious and few are the moments 
   we two can share.
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7828/302/1600/toucan.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7828/302/320/toucan.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;cite&gt;The Toucan Song&lt;/cite&gt;! Get it? "... we toucans share."
&lt;p&gt;
I cannot listen to this song anymore. I have to change the station whenever it comes on the radio.
&lt;p&gt;
This is an example of a &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mondegreen"&gt;mondegreen&lt;/a&gt; -- a misunderstood song lyric with humerous effect.
&lt;p&gt;
&lt;small&gt;A &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Toucan"&gt;toucan&lt;/a&gt; is a tropical bird with an immense beak.&lt;/small&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-114145797551213375?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/114145797551213375/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=114145797551213375&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145797551213375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145797551213375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2006/03/precious-and-few.html' title='Precious and Few &lt;img align=top alt=&quot;&quot; border=0 src=&quot;http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7828/302/200/face1.gif&quot;&gt;'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-114145773778189075</id><published>2006-03-04T02:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-31T16:12:37.516-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Paradise By the Dashboard Light</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jim_Steinman"&gt;Jim Steinman&lt;/a&gt; (BMI)
&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Meat_Loaf"&gt;Meat Loaf&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;small&gt;Epic 1977&lt;/small&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt; 
GIRL:
    Ain't no doubt about it
    We were doubly blessed
    'Cause we were barely seventeen
    And we were barely dressed

     •
     •
     •

    Stop right there!
    I gotta know right now!
    Before we go any further!

    Do you love me?
    Will you love me forever?

     •
     •
     •

BOY:
    I couldn't take it any longer
    Lord I was crazed
    And when the feeling came upon me
    Like a tidal wave
    I started swearing to my god 
      and on my mother's grave
    That I would love you to the end of time
    That I would love you to the end of time
    I swore 
    That I would love you to the end of time!
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
Was Steinman listening through my radio or something? Is there any Boomer who doesn't connect with this miniature opera?
&lt;p&gt;
Again, the clever use of language: "barely" in two different senses is the sort of linguistic &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hook_%28music%29"&gt;hook&lt;/a&gt; that reels me in every time. This song is loaded with double entendres. Take the &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Phil_Rizzuto"&gt;Scooter's&lt;/a&gt; baseball play-by-play: In the dirt, indeed!
&lt;p&gt;
&lt;small&gt;Trivia: The album, &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bat_Out_Of_Hell"&gt;&lt;cite&gt;Bat Out Of Hell&lt;/cite&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, was produced by &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Todd_Rundgren"&gt;Todd Rundgren&lt;/a&gt; — who had a few other parts: Guitar, Percussion, Arranger, Keyboards, Vocals, Vocals (bckgr), Engineer, Mixing.
&lt;p&gt;
Female vocals on &lt;cite&gt;Paradise&lt;/cite&gt; were by &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ellen_Foley"&gt;Ellen Foley&lt;/a&gt; — who co-starred in the American TV (NBC) series &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Night_Court"&gt;&lt;cite&gt;Night Court&lt;/cite&gt;&lt;/a&gt; during the 1984-85 season as public defender Billie Young. 
&lt;/small&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-114145773778189075?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paradise_by_the_Dashboard_Light' title='Paradise By the Dashboard Light'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/114145773778189075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=114145773778189075&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145773778189075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145773778189075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2006/03/paradise-by-dashboard-light.html' title='Paradise By the Dashboard Light'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-114145735232075992</id><published>2006-03-04T02:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-31T16:14:13.600-05:00</updated><title type='text'>One Tin Soldier (The Legend of Billy Jack)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Dennis Lambert, Brian Potter
Coven&lt;/i&gt; 
&lt;small&gt;Warner Bros. 1970&lt;/small&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
On the bloody morning after
One tin soldier rides away.
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
For an anti-war flick, &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Billy_Jack"&gt;&lt;cite&gt;Billy Jack&lt;/cite&gt;&lt;/a&gt; sure had plenty of violence, and this was its theme song. OK, it was not great cinema, but I loved it anyway. And I had to have that hat! I wore it camping for years -- until our little bitch schnauzer ate it! I hated her for that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-114145735232075992?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/One_Tin_Soldier' title='One Tin Soldier (The Legend of Billy Jack)'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/114145735232075992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=114145735232075992&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145735232075992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145735232075992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2006/03/one-tin-soldier-legend-of-billy-jack.html' title='One Tin Soldier (The Legend of Billy Jack)'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-114145716912902148</id><published>2006-03-04T02:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-07T08:31:26.616-05:00</updated><title type='text'>One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Lee_Hooker"&gt;John Lee Hooker&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_Thorogood"&gt;George Thorogood&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
So I go down the streets, people.
Down to my good friend's house.
I say "Look man. I'm outdoors, you know.
Can I stay with you maybe a couple days?"
He say "Let me go ask my wife."
He come out the house,
I could see in his face,
I know it was "No"!
He say "I don't know, man. 
She kinda funny, you know"
I say,
   "I know!
   Ever'body funny.
   Now you funny, too!"
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
This is from Thorogood's long, spoken introduction -- and I just like the pithy pathos from a down and out guy, rejected by his last friend in the world, with nowhere left to turn for solace but to the bottle.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-114145716912902148?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/114145716912902148/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=114145716912902148&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145716912902148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145716912902148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2006/03/one-bourbon-one-scotch-one-beer.html' title='One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-114145640042378825</id><published>2006-03-04T02:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-31T16:15:06.316-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Me and Bobby McGee</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kris_Kristofferson"&gt;K. Kristofferson&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fred_Foster"&gt;F. Foster&lt;/a&gt; (BMI)
&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Janis_Joplin"&gt;Janis Joplin&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;small&gt;Columbia 1971&lt;/small&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
But I'd trade all of my tomorrows,
for one single yesterday
&lt;/blockquote&gt; 
Could there be a better example of &lt;em&gt;lamentation&lt;/em&gt;?
&lt;p&gt;
I like this line for its use of a subtle figure of speech to good effect. The figure is &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Catachresis"&gt;catachresis&lt;/a&gt;, which is incorrect or paradoxical word usage. At any given point in time, there can only be one day called "tomorrow" and one called "yesterday", yet a multiplicity of them is inferred. 
&lt;p&gt;
One can almost find another figure, synechdoche (use of a part for the whole), in the use of "tomorrow" to stand for the whole future -- except for the plural form.
&lt;p&gt;
This is a fine example of the way song lyrics, and poetry in general, often make use of rhetorical devices to heighten the effect of the language -- to pack more meat in it.
&lt;blockquote&gt;
Freedom's just another word
for nothin' left to lose
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
I'm not sure what that means, but I do like the way it sounds!
&lt;p&gt;
I've just had it explained to me by someone who I think has been there. Loosely paraphrased:
&lt;p&gt;
&lt;div style="padding-left:2em"&gt;Posit, if you will, someone who has lost parents, spouse, child, home -- everything. There remains only the ultimate freedom -- to slip the earthly bonds of this mortal coil -- because all of importance is already lost. This wretched individual,  wrenched by the despair of those losses, drenched by the loss of hope, might even believe that the ultimate freedom would be a preferable alternative to her current miserable condition.
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-114145640042378825?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Me_and_Bobby_McGee' title='Me and Bobby McGee'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/114145640042378825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=114145640042378825&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145640042378825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145640042378825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2006/03/me-and-bobby-mcgee.html' title='Me and Bobby McGee'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-114145550263182264</id><published>2006-03-04T01:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-31T16:16:27.283-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Margaritaville</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jimmy_Buffet"&gt;Jimmy Buffet&lt;/a&gt;
Jimmy Buffet&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;small&gt;ABC 1977&lt;/small&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt; 
Nothing to show but this brand new tattoo.
   But it's a real beauty
   A Mexican cutie
How it got here, I haven't a clue.
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
God! I'm glad I've never been that drunk! Have I?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-114145550263182264?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Margaritaville' title='Margaritaville'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/114145550263182264/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=114145550263182264&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145550263182264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145550263182264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2006/03/margaritaville.html' title='Margaritaville'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-114145536040888858</id><published>2006-03-04T01:53:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-27T22:32:24.583-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Logical Song</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Rick Davies, Roger Hodgson
&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Supertramp"&gt;Supertramp&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;small&gt;A&amp;M 1979&lt;/small&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
But then they sent me away to teach me 
   how to be 
   sensible, 
     logical, 
       responsible, 
         practical.
And they showed me a world where 
   I could be so
   dependable, 
     clinical, 
       intellectual, 
         cynical.
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
Aside from the plaintive lament, and stripped of meaning, the lyrics of &lt;cite&gt;The Logical Song&lt;/cite&gt; have a special sound, a cadence, a music all their own: Adjectives On Parade!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-114145536040888858?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/114145536040888858/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=114145536040888858&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145536040888858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145536040888858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2006/03/logical-song.html' title='The Logical Song'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-114145516350726478</id><published>2006-03-04T01:50:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-27T22:35:49.072-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Killing Me Softly With His Song</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Norman_Gimbel"&gt;Norman Gimbel&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_Fox"&gt;Charles Fox&lt;/a&gt; (BMI)
&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roberta_Flack"&gt;Roberta Flack&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;small&gt;RCA 1973&lt;/small&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt; 
Strumming my pain with his fingers,
Singing my life with his words,
Killing me softly with his song,
Killing me softly with his song,
Telling my whole life with his words,
Killing me softly with his song.
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
This entire song is about the effect that I'm describing. The singer hears about a new songster who &lt;q&gt;has a style,&lt;/q&gt; but is stunned by the profound connection of his words with her life, feeling as if "he found my letters and read each one out loud."
&lt;p&gt;
(Obviously, this was during the era when people wrote and sent actual letters to one another! 
-R. 2010)
&lt;p&gt;
The song was inspired by a poem by Lori Lieberman, &lt;cite&gt;Killing Me Softly with His Blues,&lt;/cite&gt; which she wrote after seeing a then-unknown &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Don_McLean"&gt;Don McLean&lt;/a&gt; perform the song "Empty Chairs" live. [Wikipedia]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-114145516350726478?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Killing_Me_Softly_With_His_Song' title='Killing Me Softly With His Song'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/114145516350726478/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=114145516350726478&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145516350726478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145516350726478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2006/03/killing-me-softly-with-his-song.html' title='Killing Me Softly With His Song'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-114145499517304823</id><published>2006-03-04T01:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-07T09:01:51.916-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Dropped In (To See What Condition My Condition Was In)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mickey_Newbury"&gt;Mickey Newbury&lt;/a&gt; (BMI)
&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kenny_Rogers"&gt;Kenny Rogers&lt;/a&gt; &amp; &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_First_Edition"&gt;The First Edition&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;small&gt;Reprise 1968&lt;/small&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt; 
I just dropped in to see what condition 
   my condition was in
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
There are two figures of speech at work here. First, and most visible, is &lt;em&gt;antanaclasis&lt;/em&gt; (repetition of a word in two different senses), a form of pun. More subtle is the symbolic &lt;em&gt;allusion&lt;/em&gt; in reverse in the words "dropped in" to the "dropping out" of the Psychedelic Era through the use of drugs. The allusion is of a return during an acid-fueled out-of-body experience to the scene of the crime, as it were, to check on things. 
&lt;p&gt;
Folks forget that Kenny Rogers started out with the Country/Rock group, The First Edition -- who invaded the pop-psychedelic genre with this, their first Top Ten hit, in 1968.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-114145499517304823?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/114145499517304823/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=114145499517304823&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145499517304823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145499517304823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2006/03/just-dropped-in-to-see-what-condition.html' title='Just Dropped In (To See What Condition My Condition Was In)'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-114145373752032854</id><published>2006-03-04T01:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-07T09:03:39.586-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's My Party </title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;i&gt;W. Gold, H. Wiener, J. Gluck (ASCAP)
&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leslie_Gore"&gt;Lesley Gore&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;small&gt;Mercury 1963&lt;/small&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt; 
Judy and Johnny just walked thru' the door,
 like a queen with her king.
Oh, what a birthday surprise,
 Judy's wearing his ring.
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
Hey! If you had his ring, he couldn't give it to her, now could he? Obviously, there was no commitment there, 
&lt;br&gt;
&lt;b&gt;so &lt;big&gt;GET &lt;big&gt;OVER&lt;/big&gt; IT&lt;/big&gt;&lt;/b&gt;!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-114145373752032854?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/114145373752032854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=114145373752032854&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145373752032854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145373752032854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2006/03/its-my-party.html' title='It&apos;s My Party &lt;img align=top alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7828/302/200/face1.gif&quot;&gt;'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-114145299891415724</id><published>2006-03-04T01:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-07T09:04:20.456-05:00</updated><title type='text'>In the Summertime (You Don't Want My Love)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roger_Miller"&gt;Roger Miller&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Andy_williams"&gt;Andy Williams&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
In the summertime, 
  when all the trees and leaves are green
And the redbird sings, I'll be blue
  'Cause you don't want my love ...
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
Miller has a way with inner rhymes and meter -- not to mention imagery: three colors in two lines! Williams has one of the best voices in the business, and his handling of these lyrics is perfection.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-114145299891415724?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/114145299891415724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=114145299891415724&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145299891415724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145299891415724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2006/03/in-summertime-you-dont-want-my-love.html' title='In the Summertime (You Don&apos;t Want My Love)'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-114145285488139166</id><published>2006-03-04T01:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-07T09:05:17.320-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'll Never Fall In Love Again</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hal_David"&gt;Hal David&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Burt_Bacharach"&gt;Burt Bacharach&lt;/a&gt; (ASCAP)
&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dionne_Warwick"&gt;Dionne Warwick&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;small&gt;Scepter 1970&lt;/small&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
What do you get when you kiss a guy?
You get enough germs to catch pneumonia
After you do, he'll never phone ya
I'll never fall in love again
I'll never fall in love again
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
That's probably the best rhyme in popular music! Every time I hear it, I have to chuckle.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-114145285488139166?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/114145285488139166/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=114145285488139166&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145285488139166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145285488139166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2006/03/ill-never-fall-in-love-again.html' title='I&apos;ll Never Fall In Love Again'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-114145253064431028</id><published>2006-03-04T00:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-07T09:06:23.266-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Started A Joke</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Barry Gibb, Robin Gibb, Maurice Gibb (BMI)
&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bee_Gees"&gt;The Bee Gees&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;small&gt;Atco 1969&lt;/small&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
I looked at the skies running my hands 
   over my eyes
And I fell out of bed hurting my head 
   from things that I said
'Till I finally died which started 
   the whole world living
Oh If I'd only seen that the joke was on me
Oh no that the joke was on me
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;u&gt;2003/01/03&lt;/u&gt;: Maurice Gibb died yesterday. I suddenly realized that I had not gotten 'round to including any of the Bee Gees' wonderfully quirky lyrics that I so enjoy.
&lt;p&gt;
I won't claim to understand all of their songs. Who does? Their songs are often true poetry, requiring us to imagine the flesh and bone from the marrow served us.
&lt;p&gt;
Poetry like this is not easy. It makes us work to understand it. I think that's why many folks are not overly fond of poetry. They're unwilling to invest the study required for understanding. More's the pity, because several layers of meaning may be hidden within.
&lt;p&gt;
I confess that I suspect the Bee Gees sometimes tucked in a line or two just because they &lt;u&gt;sounded&lt;/u&gt; right, without regard for meaning. How else to explain some of the really inscrutable stuff? "Red chair, fade away" is readily explained, but what of this:
&lt;blockquote&gt;
Just my dog and I
at the edge of the universe.
Well, I didn't wanna bring her
and I know it'll make her worse.
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
They sure made some beautiful, memorable music!
Like &lt;cite&gt;Words&lt;/cite&gt;.
Like &lt;cite&gt;Islands in the Stream&lt;/cite&gt;.
And the wonderfully multi-textured &lt;cite&gt;Odessa (City on the Black Sea)&lt;/cite&gt;. (&lt;a href="http://www.allmusic.com/cg/amg.dll?p=amg&amp;sql=10:liaxlfae5cqo"&gt;review&lt;/a&gt;) Then there is their little-known instrumental work, like &lt;cite&gt;Seven Seas Symphony&lt;/cite&gt; or &lt;cite&gt;With All Nations&lt;/cite&gt; (both also from album &lt;cite&gt;Odessa&lt;/cite&gt;.)
&lt;p&gt;
Beautiful music, indeed!
&lt;p&gt;
&lt;small&gt;Trivia: Maurice Gibb's first wife was the Scottish singer/actress, Lulu (&lt;cite&gt;To Sir With Love&lt;/cite&gt;, 1967 film and song). &lt;/small&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-114145253064431028?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/114145253064431028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=114145253064431028&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145253064431028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145253064431028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2006/03/i-started-joke.html' title='I Started A Joke'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-114145166834931686</id><published>2006-03-04T00:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-31T16:18:12.466-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Am A Rock</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;i&gt;w/m &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paul_Simon"&gt;Paul Simon&lt;/a&gt; 
&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Simon_and_Garfunkel"&gt;Simon and Garfunkel&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;small&gt;Columbia 1966&lt;/small&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
I have my books
And my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armor,
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb.
I touch no one and no one touches me.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
Here is a soul, so psyche-rent that total retreat is the only solution. As the burnt hand shuns the stove, so love and friendship are denied.
&lt;blockquote&gt;
I have no need of friendship; 
   friendship causes pain.
If I never loved I never would have cried.
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
It's a survival thing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-114145166834931686?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/I_Am_A_Rock' title='I Am A Rock'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/114145166834931686/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=114145166834931686&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145166834931686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145166834931686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2006/03/i-am-rock.html' title='I Am A Rock'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-114145141780295083</id><published>2006-03-04T00:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-31T16:19:09.626-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hotel California</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Don Felder, Don Henley, Glenn Frey
&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eagles"&gt;The Eagles&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt; 
&lt;small&gt;Asylum 1963&lt;/small&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
You can check out any time you like,
But you can never leave.
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
I'm sorry. I can't help it. I'm a pushover for songs with clever lyrics, especially involving plays on words. This is a fine example, playing on the two meanings of "check out", one being what you do when you leave a hotel, in California or elsewhere, the other meaning "to die", or to:
&lt;p&gt;
&lt;ul style="list-style-type: none"&gt;
&lt;li&gt;croak, go west, kick the bucket, (pop, drop, step, knock, pipe, kick, or shove) off, go to the wall, pass or peg out, go for a burton (Brit?), take the last count, (check, cash, pass or hand) in one's (hand, checks or chips), turn up one's toes, slip one's cable, have one's time, (have or buy) (it or the farm), meet one's Maker, drop dead, bite the dust, come to an untimely end or go home feet first. 
&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-114145141780295083?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hotel_California' title='Hotel California'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/114145141780295083/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=114145141780295083&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145141780295083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145141780295083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2006/03/hotel-california.html' title='Hotel California'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-114145108947109320</id><published>2006-03-04T00:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-31T16:20:17.403-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah! (A Letter from Camp)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Allan_Sherman"&gt;Allan Sherman&lt;/a&gt;, Lou Busch (adaptation)
Allan Sherman&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;small&gt;Warner Bros. 1963&lt;/small&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
Wait a minute, it's stopped hailing; 
Guys are swimming, guys are sailing; 
Playing baseball; gee that's bettah; 
Muddah, Faddah kindly disregard this letter.
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
This enduring little ditty is a testament to Sherman's genius as poet-commentator on the  travails of youth. Is there any Baby-Boomer who doesn't instantly think of Camp Grenada's alligator-filled lake on hearing Ponchielli's &lt;cite&gt;Dance of the Hours&lt;/cite&gt;?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-114145108947109320?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hello_Muddah%2C_Hello_Fadduh' title='Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah! (A Letter from Camp)'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/114145108947109320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=114145108947109320&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145108947109320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145108947109320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2006/03/hello-muddah-hello-faddah-letter-from.html' title='Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah! (A Letter from Camp)'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-114145089110953357</id><published>2006-03-04T00:37:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-12T10:21:19.201-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fast Car</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tracy_Chapman"&gt;Tracy Chapman&lt;/a&gt; (ASCAP) 
Tracy Chapman&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;small&gt;Elektra 1988&lt;/small&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
You got a fast car
And we go cruising to entertain ourselves
You still ain't got a job
And I work in a market as a checkout girl
I know things will get better
You'll find work and I'll get promoted
We'll move out of the shelter
Buy a big house and live in the suburbs
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;p&gt;This song, like Chapman herself, came out of nowhere in 1988. I first heard it while driving in my own fast car, a 1986 &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dodge_Conquest"&gt;Dodge Conquest&lt;/a&gt; TSi. "Cool!", said I, "A song about me and my car!" 
&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;
It wasn't until our lesbian paper-hanger clued me in that I took the time to really &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;listen&lt;/span&gt; to the words. That's when I realized: This song isn't about a car at all. The car is a mere plot device, providing continuity in this pathetic story of failed trickle-down economics. Hitchcock would have called it a &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/MacGuffin"&gt;MacGuffin&lt;/a&gt;.
&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;
The singer is one of the disadvantaged, to use the PC terminology. Abandoned by her mother, with an alcoholic father to care for, her shiftless husband cruises the bars with his pals, leaving her with the kids.
&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;
But she knows things will get better.
&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;
Nowadays, whenever I hear this song, it hauls me back to those days. I'm cruising in my Conquest — and wondering if she ever got her big house in the suburbs.
&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-114145089110953357?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fast_car' title='Fast Car'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/114145089110953357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=114145089110953357&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145089110953357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145089110953357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2006/03/fast-car.html' title='Fast Car'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-114145059338453273</id><published>2006-03-04T00:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-07T08:55:55.651-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Eleanor Rigby</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;i&gt;John Lennon, Paul McCartney (BMI) 
&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Beatles"&gt;The Beatles&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;small&gt;Capitol 1966&lt;/small&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
Wearing the face that she keeps 
   in a jar by the door
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
This is true &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Synechdoche"&gt;synechdoche&lt;/a&gt;, in a slightly different form: "matter for what is made from it". In these few words a complex ritual is evoked in the listener's mind: &lt;em&gt;The Putting On Of Makeup&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-114145059338453273?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eleanor_Rigby' title='Eleanor Rigby'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/114145059338453273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=114145059338453273&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145059338453273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145059338453273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2006/03/eleanor-rigby.html' title='Eleanor Rigby'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-114145036408027882</id><published>2006-03-04T00:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-07T09:11:48.620-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dead Skunk</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Loudon Wainwright III (ASCAP)
Loudon Wainwright III&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;small&gt;Columbia 1973&lt;/small&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
You got yer
Dead skunk in the middle of the road
Dead skunk in the middle of the road
You got yer 
Dead skunk in the middle of the road
Stinkin' to high Heaven!
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
This charming little ditty is a favorite of a local radio DJ, so I get to hear it rather often.
&lt;p&gt;
Every time I hear it, I imagine how it came to be: In the small hours after the show, Wainwright and crew are bantering big talk around the bar. Wainwright boasts that he can write a song about anything, anything at all. Someone replies, "Oh, yeah?" ...
&lt;p&gt;
&lt;small&gt;(Well, it could have happened like that!) &lt;/small&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-114145036408027882?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/114145036408027882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=114145036408027882&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145036408027882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145036408027882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2006/03/dead-skunk.html' title='Dead Skunk'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-114145010644212918</id><published>2006-03-04T00:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-19T02:11:46.880-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Day Before You Came</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Benny Andersson, Bjorn Ulvaeus (ASCAP)
&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ABBA"&gt;ABBA&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;small&gt;Epic 1983&lt;/small&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
And turning out the light
I must have yawned and cuddled up 
   for yet another night
And rattling on the roof I must have heard 
   the sound of rain
The day before you came.
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;p&gt;
This ABBA song touches me deeply, though I'm not sure exactly why. It's about a girl recalling how her life was so very ordinary and predictable, even to the very day before she meets her true love, an event which has changed everything for her.
&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;
In the song she reflects on the tedious details of her humdrum routine on the day before he came, and her clueless innocence of how her life was about to change.
&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
Oh yes, I'm sure my life was well within 
   it's usual frame
The day before you came.
&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-114145010644212918?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/114145010644212918/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=114145010644212918&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145010644212918'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114145010644212918'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2006/03/day-before-you-came.html' title='The Day Before You Came'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-114144988211621518</id><published>2006-03-04T00:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-07T09:13:18.720-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Chug-A-Lug</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roger_Miller"&gt;Roger Miller&lt;/a&gt;
Roger Miller&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;small&gt;Smash 1964&lt;/small&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
Grape wine in a mason jar
Homemade and brought to school
By a friend of mine after class
Me and him and this other fool
Decide that we'll drink up what's left
Chug-a-lug...
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
Miller has a special place in my heart. I love his easy, rollicking rhymes and irreverent style. Picking one of his songs as a favorite wasn't easy -- so I picked two!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-114144988211621518?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/114144988211621518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=114144988211621518&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114144988211621518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114144988211621518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2006/03/chug-lug.html' title='Chug-A-Lug'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-114144954470807897</id><published>2006-03-04T00:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-07T09:14:00.513-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Brother Love's Traveling Salvation Show</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neil_Diamond"&gt;Neil Diamond&lt;/a&gt;
Neil Diamond&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;small&gt;Uni 1969&lt;/small&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
Room gets suddenly still
And when you'd almost bet
You could hear yourself sweat, he walks in
Eyes black as coal
And when he lifts his face
Every ear in the place is on him
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;div style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;width:130px"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7828/302/1600/mdahab-2.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7828/302/200/mdahab-2.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="border:thin green dotted;border-top:none;margin-top:0;padding:3px"&gt;&lt;small&gt;Rockwell Kent's &lt;cite&gt;Ahab&lt;/cite&gt;&lt;/small&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Never one to be overly subtle with an image, Diamond socks us with some of his best in this song. Nor does he stint here at the denouement, although the image that I have in my mind perhaps differs in the details from what Diamond probably had in &lt;u&gt;his&lt;/u&gt; mind. 
&lt;p&gt;
I see a man cross the stage to the podium. A severe man, lean and true. Rockwell Kent's &lt;cite&gt;Ahab&lt;/cite&gt;  with a shock of purest white hair, a little overlong and carelessly combed, dressed in a frock coat of deepest black -- with dozens of ears stuck all over him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-114144954470807897?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/114144954470807897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=114144954470807897&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114144954470807897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114144954470807897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2006/03/brother-loves-traveling-salvation-show.html' title='Brother Love&apos;s Traveling Salvation Show'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-114144930985570957</id><published>2006-03-04T00:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-07T09:15:13.316-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Bad, Bad, LeRoy Brown</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;i&gt;w/m &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jim_Croce"&gt;Jim Croce&lt;/a&gt;
Jim Croce&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;small&gt;ABC 1973&lt;/small&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
He got a .32 gun in his pocket for fun
He got a razor in his shoe
    * * *
Badder than a old King Kong
And meaner than a junkyard dog
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
Phew! Forget Kong.
Forget the razor and the pop-gun.
It's the &lt;u&gt;dog&lt;/u&gt;, man!
&lt;p&gt;
I can see him. Leaping at the gate, digging under the fence, tearing at it with his huge teeth, drool flying. How strong is chain-link, d'ya think?
&lt;p&gt;
Oh, yeah! He &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;crazy&lt;/span&gt; mean!
&lt;p&gt;
An' Leroy, he meaner than &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;that&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;!
&lt;p&gt;
&lt;small&gt;Thus Croce coins a phrase that instantly becomes a permanent part of the lexicon.&lt;/small&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-114144930985570957?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/114144930985570957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=114144930985570957&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114144930985570957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114144930985570957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2006/03/bad-bad-leroy-brown.html' title='Bad, Bad, LeRoy Brown'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-114144879723763337</id><published>2006-03-04T00:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-07T08:56:55.811-05:00</updated><title type='text'>At Seventeen</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;I&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/At_Seventeen"&gt;Janis Ian&lt;/a&gt;
Janis Ian&lt;/I&gt;
&lt;small&gt;Columbia 1975&lt;/small&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
To those of us who know the pain
Of valentines that never came,
And those whose names were never called
When choosing sides for basketball.
It was long ago and far away
The world was younger than today
And dreams were all they gave for free
To ugly duckling girls like me.
We all play the game and when we dare
To cheat ourselves at solitaire
Inventing lovers on the phone
Repenting other lives unknown
That call and say, come dance with me
and murmur vague obscenities
At ugly girls like me
At seventeen.
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
Every time this song starts on the radio, I always stop what I'm doing to listen carefully. This song is just so full of powerful -- wrenching, even -- images that I should really put it all here. This is poetry at its best.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-114144879723763337?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/114144879723763337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=114144879723763337&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114144879723763337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114144879723763337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2006/03/at-seventeen.html' title='At Seventeen'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-114144845729007791</id><published>2006-03-03T23:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-07T08:57:43.277-05:00</updated><title type='text'>American Pie</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Don_McLean"&gt;Don McLean&lt;/a&gt; (BMI) 
&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
Don McLean&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;small&gt;American Artists 1972&lt;/small&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
But February made me shiver;
With every paper I'd deliver.
Bad news on the doorstep;
I couldn't take one more step.
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Synechdoche"&gt;Synechdoche!&lt;/a&gt; The whole song has a strong impact on me, having myself been a paperboy and having lived through the same epochal events McLean writes of, but these lines affect me the most.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-114144845729007791?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/American_Pie_%28song%29' title='American Pie'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/114144845729007791/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=114144845729007791&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114144845729007791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114144845729007791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2006/03/american-pie.html' title='American Pie'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-114144759067833098</id><published>2006-03-03T23:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-07T09:19:00.636-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ain't No Woman (Like the One I Got)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Dennis Lambert, Brian Potter
&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Four_Tops"&gt;The Four Tops&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;small&gt;Dunhill 1973&lt;/small&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
Every drop of rain is glad it found her.
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
The rest of the song is superfluous.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-114144759067833098?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/114144759067833098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=114144759067833098&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114144759067833098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114144759067833098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2006/03/aint-no-woman-like-one-i-got.html' title='Ain&apos;t No Woman (Like the One I Got)'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23391993.post-114144683463240055</id><published>2006-03-03T23:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-07T09:20:13.393-05:00</updated><title type='text'>1917</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=TAG&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Olney"&gt;David Olney&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Linda_Ronstadt"&gt;Linda Ronstadt&lt;/a&gt;/&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emmylou_Harris"&gt;Emmylou Harris&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;small&gt;Electra 2000&lt;/small&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;BLOCKQUOTE&gt;
The strange young man who comes to me
A soldier on a three-day spree
Who needs one night's cheap ecstasy
And a woman's arms to hide him

He greets me with a courtly bow
And hides his pain by acting proud
He drinks too much and he laughs too loud
How can I deny him?

Let us dance beneath the moon
I'll sing to you "Claire de Lune"
The morning always comes too soon
But tonight the war is over
&lt;/BLOCKQUOTE&gt;
This strange, haunting song is about a Paris whore and her young, doomed clients, the cannon-fodder of the Great War. It's about the horrors of that war and, ultimately, all wars. And how even a whore can be a patriot, in her own small way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23391993-114144683463240055?l=a-w-w-words.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/feeds/114144683463240055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23391993&amp;postID=114144683463240055&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114144683463240055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23391993/posts/default/114144683463240055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://a-w-w-words.blogspot.com/2006/03/1917.html' title='1917'/><author><name>Dav4is</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604174854633159692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://mysite.verizon.net/dav4is/BahamasCruise1987-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
