I’ve mentioned in Just Another Writer that I composed songs on my autoharp and sang them around town for a couple of years in the seventies. By Popular Demand (that’s what I call my friend Jan—Popular), here are the lyrics to a few of the songs
“The Philodendron Song”
The chair you always sat in has been taken by my cat now,
And I hear her footsteps where you used to walk.
She greets me in the morning,
But it’s not the way you used to.
And it’s just a shame the damned old cat can’t talk.
I have a philodendron where you used to put your guitar,
And there’s ivy where you always hung your pants.
Your books aren’t on my table
so I have a vase of daisies.
You’re gone, but I can’t learn to love my plants.
The food for just one person looked so lonely in the icebox
That I filled up all the empty shelves with wine.
It hasn’t quite worked out
The way I planned in the beginning.
The bottles just get empty all the time.
. . . . . . .
“Song to a Ragtime Tune”
Oh, I think opportunity knocked last night
While I was talkin’ on the phone,
And by the time I made it to the doorstep, friend,
I have to tell you, she was gone.
So if you see her walking down the streets of town
Please tell her I’m at home.
And tell the lady I’ll be waiting for her
If she comes around.
Well, I’m not hiding out from Lady Luck, I swear,
But she can’t seem to find my house.
I think I’ll take a listing in the yellow pages
Under “loser” to help her out.
But if you see her searchin’ in the neighborhood
Please turn her round my way.
I’ll be here waiting and I’ll make her welcome
if she wants to stay.
And there’s just one more lady who can’t seem to find
The pathway to my front door.
Her name is Love and if I miss the others,
Let me tell you, I miss her more.
So take a look inside you. If you see her there
You know she’s meant for me.
And she’ll never find me if you keep her hidden
So set the lady free.
. . . . . . .
Oh, I woke up this mornin’ and I looked about.
I spit at the sun and I put it out.
I’m a mean ass woman and you better watch out
Cause if you don’t, boy,
I’m gonna getcha ya.
Went in to breakfast, ate a ton of nails,
Two worn out boots, a dozen gator tails.
I’m a mean ass woman and I’m riding the trails.
I’m on my way, boy,
To come and getcha.
Went for a stroll and walked a hundred miles.
I’m tough as hell. I never learned to smile.
I’m a mean ass woman; softness isn’t my style
You better know, boy,
I’m gonna getcha.
. . . . .
“My Eyes Are Bigger than My Bed”
I just walk down to the store
To buy some milk nothing more.
There’s nothing on my mind
But how I’m gonna find
my grocer’s dairy case.
I’m walking down the aisle.
The soup cans start to smile.
They know I’ll turn to see
you standing next to me.
Oh, what a pretty face!
And then I’m gone again,
ideas in my head.
I try to tell myself once more
My eyes are bigger than my bed.
(There are more lyrics to this song, but I can’t find them.)
. . . . . . .
“Used to Losin’”
I lost one lover to a man in Texas
and another joined the guru.
One’s in a coven casting spells and hexes
and I think I’m gonna lose you.
I lost my first one and my last one
and all the other ones, too.
I’m gonna look mighty careless
if I end up losing you.
One said, “Now, honey, I’ll be back by Sunday
Then she wrote me from Alaska.
When the next one left me she took all my money
Now she’s somewhere in Nebraska.
There was one named Sally left me in an alley
Starin’ sadly at a trash can
Then I lost her sister at a stock car rally
To a lady with an oil pan.