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.

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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.