The Viagra Song AKA It' Ain't as Hard as You Think

I played this at teacher camp and managed to pretty much get all the way through without screwing up badly or forgetting the words.

It Ain’t as Hard as You Think
G C G
I met a woman. She was kind of sleazy.
G D C G
I took her home. I gave her a drink
I said, "Momma, this love ain't easy."
She told me, "Daddy, it ain't as hard as you think."
[Chorus]
Hard as you think, not as hard as you think,
She told me, “It ain’t as hard as you think.”

We went in the bedroom. She took off her bra.
My heart started racing when I caught a peek.
I ran to the bathroom to get a Viagra.
I forgot I used them up last week.
[Chorus2]
Hard as you think, not as hard as you think,
Sex without viagra: it ain’t as hard as you think.

Back in the bedroom I tried to get going
I tried all my usual hijinks and kinks,
When I tried to slide in, her look was knowing:
She said, "Daddy, it ain't as hard as you think."
[Chorus2]
When I was a young man, I walked like a god
My pants were stretched out by a steel-hard rod.
But now I’ve grown older, I can’t get a thrill
Unless I have taken my little blue pill.
[Chorus2]
All of you guys who still think you’re studs
Whenever you’ve had a bit too much to drink
Then get in the sack and turn out to be duds,
Sex without Viagra: it ain’t as hard as you think!
[Chorus2]

Hana Ho

"Hana Ho" is the first song that I ever envisioned as a simple rock song, but the verses are all based on stuff I did with a particular group of friends, so they're the audience I had in mind when I wrote it. I'd like to hear it with about 1000 people singing the chorus.

Hana Ho
[Intro]
C B C B C B C
You know how when you walk along the beach and then look back,
C B C B C B A
Even as you’re standing you can see the waves erase your tracks?
C B C B C B C
The days now seem to flow by just like waves wash on the beach;
C B C B C D E
These are just a few nice shells or rocks that I still want to keep:
E A E B A E
On vacation in Hawaii, we cycled down a volcano
The tour leader told us when it was time to go
He’d brush his hand across his head, and shout out hana ho
[Chorus]
Hana ho, hana ho. We just wanna rock and roll.
Hana ho, hana ho. The hell with growing old.
Hana ho, hana ho. We just wanna rock and roll.
Camping with my friends, telling stories, drinking beer.
It was down at Old Orchard. Man the skunks were everywhere.
Security guard came down, told us, “Pffft, yer outa here!”
[Chorus]
Carol and Lorene, you should hear the things they say
Each one trying to tell the other to put her cash away
When we’re all out together on Fit family Sh-sh-shatterday
[Chorus]
My friend Chris throws a party. He calls it Reaganstock.
He gets his friends together to play a little rock.
I took my lover to it; she came down with fortyshock.
[Chorus]
[Bridge - play intro pattern again]
I used the wrong hand to take a little sip.
When Brad caught me at it I didn’t cry, I didn’t quit,
‘Cause I’m a Bull Moose M*F*, and I’m damn proud of it!

Word Problems

A couple years ago I heard one of those songs that has a line like "one and one is two..." and thought I'd like to write a song like that. It seemed like maybe using a piece of an old nursery rhyme, and it fit in with what I'd been doing recycling lines from old blues songs (see "Bad Woman Blues" and others). By the time I was done writing I had "Word Problems."
I'm posting it here now because I just emailed the address of the blog to a friend who is a math teacher, though the song isn't about me or anyone I know. It's kind of in the vein of Elton John's "Teacher I Need You" or Van Halen's "Hot for Teacher," but it might be the sweetest song I've written so far. The music is very low-key, acoustic strumming, faster in the chorus, almost talking in the verses.

Word Problems

Math teacher, math teacher, I love you, though I don’t understand a thing you do.
Will you help me if I stay after school, solve the problem of the unknown, lovesick fool?

If Bobby has twelve apples, and Johnny just has three,
How many apples must I give to get you to fall in love with me?
I know the operations, but which one will it take
To get you to say yes, so my poor heart doesn’t break?

Math teacher, math teacher, I love you, though I don’t understand a thing you do.
Will you help me if I stay after school, solve the problem of the unknown, lovesick fool?

If I have a pound of butter, and chocolate chips are $1.99
How many cookies will it take for you to know I want you to be mine?
If a freight train leaves Chicago, going sixty down the track,
Can I get you to say, “I do” before that train gets back?

Math teacher, math teacher, I love you, though I don’t understand a thing you do.
Will you help me if I stay after school, solve the problem of the unknown, lovesick fool?

Let Y be you, let X be me,
Let’s be indivisible for eternity
Let the power of two be you and I,
At least until we multiply.

Math teacher, math teacher, I love you, though I don’t understand a thing you do.
Will you help me if I stay after school, solve the problem of the unknown, lovesick fool?

Cookin' in Carol's Kitchen

This one dates to a time when I felt like my best chance of getting a positive reaction was to write songs full of double entendres and innuendoes (it does seem to be a strength of mine anyway). Carol's husband didn't take to this one, so I never really played it much, but at the time the variations in chords and tempo were pretty advanced for me: it doesn't show here, but I had a little cliche intro and break, and even a harp solo figured out.

Cookin’ in Carol’s Kitchen
E A E A
Some people like to snort cocaine, some shoot heroin.
E A B A E
Me, I’ve got an addiction to cookin’ in Carol’s kitchen.
E A B E
Cookin’ in Carol’s kitchen, cookin’ in Carol’s kitchen,
E A B C G
I’ve got an addiction to cookin’ in Carol’s kitchen.
A D A D A D A D
Everybody’s met a woman or two with everything it takes
To boil vegetables, bake a potato, and cook a decent steak.
But they ain’t got what Carol’s got; They can’t do what she can.
C G
I’ve been in Carol’s kitchen, ‘n’ I’m here to tell you man.

Cookin’ in Carol’s kitchen, cookin’ in Carol’s kitchen,
I’ve got an addiction to cookin’ in Carol’s kitchen.

Her vegetables are firm, and her fruit is oh-so-sweet;
Her sauce is smooth and creamy, and goes good with any meat.
Breasts so firm, thighs so greasy, and her special spice,
On Carol’s rotisserie, the chicken cooks up nice.

Cookin’ in Carol’s kitchen, cookin’ in Carol’s kitchen,
I’ve got an addiction to cookin’ in Carol’s kitchen.


She don’t have new equipment; hers is tried and true.
In Carol’s kitchen she’s got what you need for what you want t’ do.
It’s not the equipment, it’s what she does with it;
What takes Carol half an hour took Lorene half the night.

Cookin’ in Carol’s kitchen, cookin’ in Carol’s kitchen,
I’ve got an addiction to cookin’ in Carol’s kitchen.

Something in the microwave, in the oven, and on top,
Turn the rotisserie on too, and her breaker’s gonna pop!
She can get the job done, but watch out for overload.
Yeah, her equipment’s tested, but her service is getting old.

Cookin’ in Carol’s kitchen, cookin’ in Carol’s kitchen,
I’ve got an addiction to cookin’ in Carol’s kitchen.

Speed freaks like to pop their pills, winos drink cheap wine.
Cookin’ in Carol’s kitchen sets me up just fine.

Cookin’ in Carol’s kitchen, cookin’ in Carol’s kitchen
I’ve got an addiction to cookin’ in Carol’s kitchen

Baghdad Stomp

I guess "Easy Street" might be a kind of low-key protest song, since Bob Dylan called his "finger-pointing" songs, and it sort of does that. This song, written on the eve of our current war also sort of does it. Needless to say, it went out of date within a month of my writing it.
In retrospect, I never liked the smarty-pants self-reference in the last verse.

Baghdad Stomp
Operator, Washington here , get me Baghdad, please
I’ve got a warning for the Iraqis
Dubya’s pointy stick’s aimed at your eye
So, bend over, put your head down, and kiss your ass goodbye

Hello Mr. Hussein, this is your wake up call
A Cruise missile’s comin’ straight down your front hall
Smart bombs are rainin’, rainin’ from the sky
So, bend over, put your head down, and kiss your ass goodbye

Hey Saddam we don’t like you; we want your oil wells
And we don’t mind blowing your country all to hell
Didn’t get you last time, so we’ll have another try
Just sit down, get your head down, and kiss your ass goodbye

You’re a threat to world peace, and the international community,
I guess that means everyone who drives an SUV.
Gotta get ya now, though we don’t know why.
So assume the position, baby, and just kiss your ass goodbye.

Dubya wants to rock the kasbah, wants to hear the Muezzin wail.
He wants to knock your temple walls down and make every minaret fall.

Hey Baghdad, turn the TV on and tune in CNN
Pretty soon we’re gonna be bombardin’ you again
You’ll be able to watch it live when you die
So get ready, it’s almost time to kiss your ass goodbye.

Dubya wants to rock the kasbah, wants to hear the Muezzin wail.
He wants to knock your temple walls down and make every minaret fall.

If you think this song is sick, and you wonder why
I joke about it when so many people are about to die,
My answer is if I didn’t joke I’d have to cry
If you don’t like what I say, you can kiss my ass. Goodbye.

Comment Settings Changed

I changed the comment settings so that anyone may comment; you do not have to register with blogger to be able to comment here. I don't know why I didn't do it before.
Love to hear from you, and now it's less hassle than ever.

Over the Hill

This is one of the two or three best songs I've written, and the one that has a chance of being immortal, if not making me immortal (nor making me any money). It is a birthday song for people who are "getting up there." My next challenge re this song will be to figure out when a person is so old it isn't funny to sing it to them.
Over the Hill
gleefully (you aren’t the one being serenaded!)
G D
Over the hill, you’re over the hill
C G
You feel like week-old road kill
G D
The buzzards are circling, don’t stand too still
C G
___________ You’re over the hill!
Em Am
One day you wake up and something has changed:
D7 Em
You didn’t get hurt, but still you’re in pain,
Em Am
The face in the mirror looks tired and strained
D7 Em
Like your mother’s/father’s would if he were deranged.
[Chorus]
It’s a good day, ‘cause your stomach’s not THAT upset;
A good bowel movement means more than good sex.
You’ve gotta go to work ‘cause you aren’t dead yet.
This isn’t voodoo, and it isn’t a hex. You’re just...
[Chorus]
You’re no longer part of the Pepsi generation;
You’re well on your way to antiquation.
Your most stylish clothes are years out of fashion;
And all your favorites songs are on the oldies station.
Yes, you’re...
[Chorus]
Yes, your hearing’s shot I SAID, YOUR HEARING IS SHOT,
You need bifocals, too, and your gut’s gone to pot.
Remember the chorus? I knew you forgot;
Don’t call it Alzheimer’s, it’s only brain rot,
Because...
[Chorus]

Peaches

I guess I never really figured out a title for this. It is another song where I used a lot of phrases from old songs and tried to put them together in a slightly new way.

If you don’t want my peaches, why did you shake my tree?
If you don’t want my peaches, why did you shake, why did you shake my tree?
If you don’t like this Georgia weather, go back to Tennessee.

Nothing in the world as sweet as my fresh fruit
Nothing in the world as sweet as my fresh, as sweet as my fresh fruit
If you don’t pick it from the orchard, its just going to rot.

I’d rather drink muddy water, sleep in a hollow log
I’d rather drink muddy water, sleep in a hollow, sleep in a hollow log
Than live with you here in Atlanta, when you won’t walk my dog.

Baby take my little dog, take him for a stroll
Baby take my little dog, take him for a, take him for a stroll.
And when you finish that, I wanna jelly roll.

Bad Woman Blues

I wrote a few songs where my goal was to recycle some imagery from old blues songs and have the song sound like a classic blues, so people would say, "who wrote that?" Expecting it to be Robert Johnson or Blind Lemon Jefferson or something. Then I'd say, "me." This is one of those:

Bad Woman Blues

Listen to me, woman, I got somethin’ to say.
Listen, listen, listen, I got somethin’ to say.
Thing’s have gotta change; we can’t go on this way.

I’ve put up with you, woman, for too long a time.
Put up with you, yeah, too long, too long a time.
The way you bein’ doin’ me, it oughta be a crime.

The way you treat me, just ain’t right.
The way you treat me, no, that ain’t right.
Lay ‘round all day, ‘n’ then you’re gone all night.

If you don’t love me, why not just say so.
If you don’t love me, you can just say so.
If you don’t think I’ll leave, sit back and watch me go.

I’m gonna quit you, and it won’t be long.
Gonna quit you, and it won’t be long.
Go on out tonight. Tomorrow I’ll be gone.

I think it’s time for me to dust my broom.
Think it’s time for me to dust my broom.
One a your drinkin’ buddies can have my room.

A Cure for Cancer

This is one that Meg, for some reason, particularly thinks other people will enjoy hearing:

Heard the news the other day, reseach study shows
Orgasms help your prostate. Gotta flush out the hose!
(chorus)
Workin' on a cure for cancer. My health is important to me.
Jerkin' to prevent that cancer. Gotta stay cancer-free.

Woke up the other morning, It was a beautiful day.
Thought it looked so nice out, I'd just leave it that way.
(chorus)
Pass me another tissue, somethin's drippin' on my leg.
There's another thousand swimmers 'll never make it to an egg.
(chorus)
My girlfriend called me at lunch, asked, "Honey, what ya doin'?"
I didn't miss a beat, I said, "I'm just thinkin' 'bout you and..."
(chorus)
I don’t want to be selfish, I scan the news eagerly
For the study that shows that women can stop cancer of the ovaries.
(Chorus)
Now I need to stop singing; Science is calling me.
I wish I could stay a little longer, but more research is necessary.
(Chorus)

Black Jack Rackham 2

I figured, rightly or wrongly, that sea chanteys might tend to be in the key of D. Also, if you electrified it, you could get a good D drone going that would ram it right along, so here's the chords after fifteen minutes work:
Black Jack Rackham
D
Black Jack Rackham, a bucccaneer captain
D
And vet'ran of many a boarding expedition,
G
Sighted the chase and came about smartly
A
As soon as he entered the Bucket o Blood.
D
A fine looking lass, he needed no glass
D
To admire her bowsprit an' the cut o her jib
G
He cruised up beside her, an' then crossed her hawser
A D
to bring the full weight of his broadside to bear.
[chorus]
D A
So here's to the barroom buccaneer, here's to the pub-stool pirate
G D
Here's to a tavern wench on my knee, and a cold pint of ale beside me.

Double-shot loaded, with Cruzan rum
He ordered another, and another again
Then his Jolly Roger he ran up the jackstaff
Prepared to board her and hefted his gaff.
[chorus]
A A/G# A/F# E D A A/G# A/F# E D (x2)
He said Hey ya ho, let's have a go! And yo ho ho, yeah blow the man down!
But she said No way Joe, I don't play for dough, and I'm not impressed by what ye've shown.
[chorus]
Black Jack Rackham, the buccaneer captain
and vet'ran of many a boarding expedition,
Gave up the chase and bore away sharply
To careen on the beach and repair his caulking.
[chorus]

Black Jack Rackham

I've been going back through my old files and trying to grab and post one song every day or two, but this one is something I wrote yesterday and today. It's still in rough draft. I'm planning on sea chantey-type music, but I've been reading a book about Paul McCartney so I think it'd be cool to throw in some "Yellow Submarine" type sounds, and the bridge is kind of rap-like. Here it is:
Black Jack Rackham
Black Jack Rackham, a bucccaneer captain
And vet'ran of many a boarding expedition,
Sighted the chase and came about smartly
As soon as he enterd the Bucket o Blood.

A fine looking lass, he needed no glass
To admire her bowsprit an' the cut o her jib
He cruised up beside her, an' then crossed her hawser
to bring the full weight of his broadside to bear.
[chorus]
So here's to the barroom buccaneer, here's to the pub-stool pirate
Here's to a tavern wench on my knee, and a cold pint of ale beside me.

Double-shot loaded, with Cruzan rum
He ordered another, and another again
Then his Jolly Roger he ran up the jackstaff
Prepared to board her and hefted his gaff.
[chorus]
He said Hey ya ho, let's have a go! And yo ho ho, yeah blow the man down!
But she said No way Joe, I don't play for dough, and I'm not impressed by what ye've shown.
[chorus]
Black Jack Rackham, the buccaneer captain
and vet'ran of many a boarding expedition,
Gave up the chase and bore away sharply
To careen on the beach and repair his caulking.
[chorus]

What'd I Say

"What'd I Say" is the most finished of all the songs I made up last summer. It's mostly ripped off from a set of pick-up lines guaranteed not to work that I saw on some joke site somewhere. The chord sequence was intially inspired by Bob Dylan's "The Times are A-Changin'" This is one of my songs that is so long I can't remember all the lyrics when I try to sing it. How embarrassing to be singing a song you wrote and forget the words.

What'd I Say
[Chorus:]
C D G Em
What’d I do? What’d I say?
G C D Dsus D
Why’d she slap me and flounce away?
C D G Em
I don’t know why I bother to go out on the town
G C D Dsus D
when every woman I talk to just shoots me down.
C D G Em
I start conversations, but they don’t last long,
G C D Dsus D
because I’m always saying something wrong.
[Verse]
G Am Bm G
A guy said, “Say something witty, not the same old line,
Bm G Am C
Like ‘Do you come here often,’ or ‘What‘s your sign?’.”
G Am Bm G
So I said, “You're always on my mind...but I'd rather have you on my bed.”
Bm G Am C
Then I tried, “I can introduce myself, if you don’t give strangers head.”
G Am Bm G
And, “Remember my name’s Jeff, ’cause you’ll be screaming it all night.”
Bm G Am C
I guess that’s why the bouncer knew it when he came to throw me out.
[Chorus]
I read that you’re supposed to compliment a girl,
So I tried, “Are those space pants, ‘cause your ass is out of this world!”
I tried it straight: “Your rack is fantastic!”
And creative: Do you use windex? I can see myself in your pants!
Then I tried, “Is it hot in here, or is it just you?”
That one got me shot down, too.
[Chorus]
I asked a friend for help. Compliment their clothes, he said.
I tried, “That’s a beautiful dress, it’d look great lying beside my bed.”
And, “That shirt looks very becoming on you,
but if I were on you, I'd be coming too.”
I don’t know why neither one of those worked,
one women slapped me, the other called me a jerk.

[Chorus]
I said, Nice boots, they’d look good crossed behind my back.”
She said, “ you’re about to have one halfway up your ass!”
I looked again. "Haven't I seen you someplace before?"
She told me, "Yes, that's why I don't go there anymore"
Now I’m getting dirty looks from her “friend”
Why do all the beautiful ones turn out to be lesbians?
[Chorus]

Easy Street Revisited

I think posting "Easy Street" got me thinking about it again, and I revised the lyrics a little in the second verse:

Easy Street
A D A D
I drove my Navigator up and down
A D A D
Searching all over town,
A D A D E
But I never found Easy Street.
D
Easy Street
A D E
Where the hell is Easy Street?

I bought a new atlas,
a Blackberry, and a GPS,
tried GoogleEarth and Mapquest.
Looking for Easy Street.
Easy Street
Where the hell is Easy Street?

Now I’m on stuck on Heartbreak Hill
Workin’ my ass off to pay my bills,
But man, it’s gonna be such a thrill
When I’m on Easy Street.
Easy Street
Where the hell is Easy Street?

Easy Street.
Easy Street [end on A]
Where the hell is Easy Street?

Rat Bastards

"Rat Bastards" is another simple-minded, stripped-down ditty from last summer.
G C D G
There’s a woman in my neighborhood
G D G
Struggling to raise her three kids
G C D G
When I see her all she talks about
G D G
Is what a rat bastard her ex-husband is.

chorus:
G C
Rat bastard, rat bastard
D G
He’s nothing but a rat bastard!
G C
Rat bastards, rat bastards
G D G
The world is full of rat bastards.

Jack and Jill went up the hill
And Jack brought a fifth of gin
It’s a good thing Jill was on the pill
‘Cause she never saw Jack again

chorus(2):
G C
Rat bastards, rat bastards
D G
Look out girls, they’re rat bastards
G C
Rat bastards, rat bastards
G D G
The world is full of rat bastards

Little Jack Horner trapped a girl in the corner
And stuck his thumb in the pie
Then he told her he’d love her for ever and ever
But it was nothing but a lie.

chorus(2):

You’re sweet, and smart and beautiful,
And I’m already half in love with you
But there’s one thing you should know, before we go:
I’m a rat bastard, too.

chorus(3):
G C
Rat bastard, rat bastard
D G
I’m another rat bastard
G C
Rat bastards, rat bastards
G D G
The world is full of rat bastards

It's Beautiful

This is another work "in progress" that I got to this point last summer, and need to make up music for.

I was with some of the fellows, buying a few rounds of drinks
When some of ‘em got to talking about the woman of their dreams.

One said,
I want a woman about four feet tall
With a flat top on her head
And no teeth at all
Man that’s beautiful, yeah that’s beautiful, yeah that’s beautiful to me.

Another said,
I want a blonde with a cup size bigger than her IQ
A pneumatic pornographic bimbo who says
“Sounds good” whatever I want to do.
Man that’s beautiful, yeah that’s beautiful, yeah that’s beautiful to me.

I said you fellows haven’t thought the whole thing through.
Here’s the story of my dream woman, and every word is true.

I’d just spent my last dollar on my last beer
When she came tottering in.
She had one leg shorter than the other
And red blotches all over her skin.
She pulled out a roll of twenties
And bought me drinks again and again.
Now that was beautiful, yeah that’s beautiful, yeah that’s beautiful to me.

A glass beside the bed
is where she keeps her teeth,
While her hair hangs in the walk-in closet
of the master suite
Of her ski chalet at the mountain,
or summer place at the beach
And that’s beautiful, yeah that’s beautiful, yeah that’s beautiful to me.
Yes, It’s beautiful, yeah that’s beautiful, yeah that’s beautiful to me.

My Woman

Here's some lyrics I put together last summer after having some of the pieces for a while. I envisioned it as a funk/soul song. The other day I heard Bob Seger's "Her Strut" on the radio and thought that would be an appropriate sound for this song, but I still haven't worked the music at all.
My Woman
My woman, she’s the best; she’s better than all the rest
I put her to the test; she’s better than all the rest.
Must ‘a been about a dozen men got whiplash when she sashayed in.
‘cause she’s built better than the rest.

She’s my woman, she’s the best; better than all the rest.
She’s the best, yeah, she’s the best. She’s better than all the rest.
Brick house ain’t good enough for her, she’s put together like a fallout shelter.
Yeah! she’s the best, better than all the rest.

Smokin’! She’s hot! Other woman want what my woman’s got.
They wish they were that fine, but they’re not.
They all give her the green-eyed stare; my woman she don’t care.
My woman, she’s the best; she’s better than all the rest.

Smokin’! She’s hot! All the men want the woman I got.
They wanna be her man, but they’re not.
It’s enough to make you sick, the way those fellows’ eyeballs click.
She’s my woman, she’s the best; better than all the rest.

Smokin’! She’s hot! And as you might have guessed
She calls the shots.
Men lost their breath when she started to dance; They called nine one one for an ambulance.
My woman, she’s the best; she’s better than all the rest.

Johnny Cash Blues

We were talking about Cash the other day at work, and I remembered I wrote this tribute to him on the day he died. To the tune of "Folsom Prison Blues" (obviously, I hope).
Johnny Cash Blues
E
I heard the news this morning: His road has reached its end
E E7
We won’t hear any new songs from the man in black again.
A E
It’s a Friday in September, and time keeps draggin’ on.
B7 E
Life ain’t gettin’ any better, ‘cause Johnny Cash is gone.

When I was just a baby, he was rockin down at Sun
with Jerry Lee and Elvis and blue suede Carl Perkins
Then he had his own TV show, played Folsom prison, too,
And yeah he played some silly songs, like “A Boy Named Sue.”

He kept on making music, right up until he died;
“The Man Comes Around” made me feel so lonesome I could cry.
The train is in the station. The song has reached its end.
We’ll never hear another man like Johnny Cash again.

Easy Street

Easy Street
A D A D
I drove my Navigator up and down
A D A D
Searching all over town,
A D A D E
But I never found Easy Street.
D
Easy Street
A D E
Where the hell is Easy Street?

I bought a new atlas
Booted up my Palm Pilot,
And logged onto Mapquest.
Looking for Easy Street.
Easy Street
Where the hell is Easy Street?

Now I’m on stuck on Heartbreak Hill
Workin’ my ass off to pay my bills,
But man, it’s gonna be such a thrill
When I’m on Easy Street.
Easy Street
Where the hell is Easy Street?

Easy Street.
Easy Street [end on A]
Where the hell is Easy Street?

Welcome to the New Jasmine Six-String

The old Jasmine kept making my desktop computer think it didn't have flashplayer installed, so I had stopped visiting and posting there. Now I've created the new Jasmine Six-String as a place to share my musical and lyrical ideas.