Category Archives: Music

Soft Rock from the 1970’s: John Denver, “Rocky Mountain High”

2 Comments

Filed under Music, Rock

Soft Rock from the 1970’s: Albert Hammond, “It Never Rains in Southern California”

Great music from the 1970’s! And it’s about Southern California, too! And it’s true! This song is never played anymore, but really it ought to be. It’s just too great to be left off the airways. It’s almost criminal not to play a song this great.

Albert Hammond was not well known, but he did have this one great hit. Love that hair too!

He’s mostly just a songwriter more than a singer. He wrote songs for Johnny Cash, Elton John, Mama Cass, The Association, Steppenwolf, Sonny & Cher, Johnny Mathis, Olivia Newton-John, Petula Clark, Jose Feliciano, Perry Como, Tom Jones, Engelbert Humperdinck, Helen Reddy, Glenn Campbell, The Oakridge Boys, The Carpenters, Jefferson Starship, Leo Sayer, Chicago, and a bunch of others you probably never heard of.

One more great song of the California Dream, which was all wrapped up in White California, which is dead and gone and mourned to this day, especially by me. It was one of those you had to be there times and places. Sorry if you missed it!

Lyrics. A hint to understanding this song. It’s not really about the weather. It’s about life, the ups and downs of life, specifically the Hollywood Dream and Los Angeles, the City of Angels itself. John Rechy, Nathaniel West, Dashiell Hammett, The Eagles, The Flying Burrito Brothers, Sunset Boulevard – the street and the movie. Fortune and misfortune at the edge of the Earth where the cliffs drop off into the sea. Where people go to die. Everyone goes to LA to die. Everyone. Get it?

Got on board a westbound seven forty-seven
Didn’t think before deciding what to do
Ooh, that talk of opportunities
TV breaks and movies
Rang true
Sure rang true

Seems it never rains in Southern California
Seems I’ve often heard that kind of talk before
It never rains in California
But girl, don’t they warn ya?
It pours
Man, it pours

I’m out of work, I’m out of my head
Out of self respect, I’m out of bread
I’m underloved, I’m underfed,
I want to go home
It never rains in California
But girl, don’t they warn ya?
It pours
Man, it pours

Will you tell the folks back home I nearly made it?
Had offers but didn’t know which one to take
Please don’t tell ’em how you found me
Don’t tell ’em how you found me
Gimme a break
Give me a break

Seems it never rains in Southern California
Seems I’ve often heard that kind of talk before
It never rains in California
But girl, don’t they warn ya?
It pours
Man, it pours

3 Comments

Filed under California, Music, Regional, Rock, USA, West

Soft Rock from the 1970’s: Dr. Hook and the Medicine Band, “Sylvia’s Mother”

Great song from 1972, little remembered to this day. Sad song about a broken love affair, heart-crushing to listen to with those deadly creaky vocals even today. Dr. Hook and the Medicine Show are little known today, but they had a huge hit in On the Cover of the Rolling Stone, another great song from around the same time which is never played anymore. It was hugely popular back in the day. Great music from the early 1970’s!

Lyrics, written by Shel Silverstein, incredibly enough.

Sylvia’s mother says “Sylvia’s busy,
Too busy to come to the phone.”
Sylvia’s mother says, “Sylvia’s trying,
to start a new life of her own.”
Sylvia’s mother says “Sylvia’s happy,
So why don’t you leave her alone?”
And the operator says: “Forty cents more,
for the next three minutes.”

Please Mrs. Avery, I’ve just got to talk to her
I’ll only keep her a while.
Please Mrs. Avery, I just want to tell her
Goodbye.

Sylvia’s mother says, “Sylvia’s packing,
She’s going be leaving today.”
Sylvia’s mother says, “Sylvia’s marrying,
A fellow down Galveston-way.”
Sylvia’s mother says, “Please don’t say nothing
To make her start crying and stay.”
And the operator says: “Forty cents more
for the next three minutes.”

Please Mrs. Avery, I’ve just got to talk to her
I’ll only keep her a while.
Please Mrs. Avery, just want to tell her
Goodbye.

Sylvia’s mother says, “Sylvia’s hurrying,
She’s catching the nine o’clock train.”
Sylvia’s mother says: “Take your umbrella,
Cause Sylvia, it’s starting to rain.”
And Sylvia’s mother says, “Thank you for calling.
And sir, won’t you call back again?”
And the operator says, “Forty cents more
For the next three minutes.”

Please Mrs. Avery, I’ve just got to talk to her
I’ll only keep her a while
Please Mrs. Avery, just want to tell her
Goodbye
Tell her goodbye
Please, tell her goodbye
Goodbye

Leave a comment

Filed under Music, Rock

Soft Rock from the 1960’s: Scott McKenzie “San Francisco (Be Sure to Wear Flowers in Your Hair)”

God I love this song! And I still love the hippies, too. If there’s anything we need to go back to, it’s that. It’s so painful to realize that the Flower Children of the 1960’s grew up to be a generation that voted in Donald Trump.

Or did they?

You must understand. Back in those days with Revolution in the air, maybe half the young people were part of the Movement and the other half hated it with all their guts and intensity. We never hear about them. There were as many young people for the war as against it. There were as many lining up outside ROTC buildings as there were bombing them. The campuses were full of short-haired conservatives, members of Buckley’s Young Americans for Freedom. Sometimes it played out in the streets, when rightwing construction workers and even bikers assaulted hippies. It’s true. Bikers have always been conservatives and still are to this very day. I’m sure they all voted for Trump this time around.

What we saw in the 1990’s and 200’s was history replaying itself, but this time as farce. Bush and his minions – Rumsfeld, Cheney, the neoconservative Jews around Bill Kristol and his father Irving at Commentary, John Bolton, Condoleeza Rice, Colon Powell – these were the 60’s Generation too, but they were the other side of the mirror – the 60’s young conservatives who hated the Movement types as much as anyone’s parents did.

Clinton ruled for eight years, and he was the Hippie Movement Generation or the Revolutionary 1960’s in power even though he barely inhaled. One of the reasons he was so hated is because the Culture War of the 1960’s-1970’s with a generation split between Left and Right at each others’ throats trying to – sometimes successfully – kill each other, never really ended. There was no truce or even a ceasefire. Surely there was no peace deal.

And when Bush came in, he was the other side of the coin, this time the conservatives of the 1960’s – the squares as we derisively called them – had taken back over the reigns from their lifelong enemies. They did it by stealing elections, but they got in no matter what.

The 1960’s were replayed again under Barack Obama, this time even worse, with accusations of hobnobbing around with actual revolutionaries like Bill Ayers and Bernadette Dohrn (these are still two of my heroes), former high-ranking members of the Weather Underground who lived underground for over a decade and resurfaced only to be pardoned of all charges.

Dohrn and Ayers resurfaced as Education Professors at the University of Chicago where they teach to this day. U of Chicago has a bad rap. Forget the Economics Department where the curse of neoliberalism was resurrected from the dead by Friedman and his gangsters who then went on to destroy Chile and poison the minds of generations. There’s a whole tradition of radicalism there too, especially in the social sciences and nowadays in the Education Department. Former bomb-throwing revolutionaries now tenured professors living comfortable lives in ivy-covered brick apartments? Who could have guessed?

Chicago’s a funny place. Sure you had the reactionary Tribune, but you also had Marshall Fields, a Leftist millionaire and head of a department store chain who funded huge pro-labor newspapers because they would die with ads they would never get. It’s a funny place, Left and Right all mixed in and in each other’s face, gripped at each other’s throats and choking hard, sort of like…the whole country now? N’est pas?

The reaction against the so-called Movement radicalism of Obama in power was of course the election of Trump on a fake populist platform, whose job it is apparently to roll back the entire Revolutionary Project of the 1960’s – and the New Deal of the 1930’s while they’re at it – and oh Hell, let’s go all the way back to Gilded Age of the 1890’s as Rove dreams. We’re already there anyway. What is the US from 1990-present but the Gilded Age Part 2, as if we never learned a thing the first time?

The infinite return coming back to punch us all in the face again. Cirlces aren’t all round. Some are flat in fact.

Riverrun, past Eve and Adams, from swerve of shore to bend of bay…

OK, you get it now?

 

3 Comments

Filed under Conservatism, Culture, Democrats, Economics, Higher Education, History, Left, Midwest, Music, Neoconservatism, Neoliberalism, Obama, Political Science, Politics, Regional, Republicans, Revolution, Rock, US, US Politics, USA

Soft Rock from the 1970’s: Gilbert O’Sullivan, “Alone Again”

Great music from 1971! This is the original version from Gilbert O’Sullivan. Dig that hair. My hair used to look a lot like that, or more like Tony Orlando from Dawn actually. Everybody laughs when they see it now but really long hair on men was a big deal back on this days. My hair was very curly and it was near Jewfro but not quite. More like this guy’s. Women and girls went nuts over long hair back then, especially long curly hair. They were always grabbing me and trying to rub their fingers through it “just to see what it feels like.” Yeah sure.

Apparently the song is about suicide, death and other things, but I never knew that until today.

I always just thought it was a great song, just a sad song is all. But so what? Some of the best music is sad, face it. Life’s half sadness anyway, and that’s on a good day. Don’t believe me? Ask any Buddhist. They figured this out a long time ago.

Once you figure out that some of the beauty of life is in its gloriously catastrophic sadness, now you’ve got it. There’s the road to Satori, stretching out right in front of you. All you gotta do is take that first step. Come on, you can do it. Don’t be chicken.

Take a deep breath and dive right into the black fathomless pool of life. Who knows what’s down there? Who knows if you will come up or not? Who cares?

Just say, “The Hell with it and I’m going to do this anyway. If I die, I die, ok, so be it.”

This is one of the secrets to life. You have to keep diving into that pool over and over, dammit.

Otherwise you will never live. You will have one foot in the grave your whole life until someone shoves you all the way in to that very familiar hole of yours at the end. Death-in-life is no way to live. Why be a Zombie? Look around you. The world’s full of them anyway.

Choose life, dammit! Dive in! Live dangerously!

Here’s the lyrics.

In a little while from now
If I’m not feeling any less sour
I promise myself
To treat myself
And visit a nearby tower
And climbing to the top
Will throw myself off
In an effort to
Make it clear to who
Wants to know
What it’s like when you’re shattered

Left standing in the lurch
At a church
Were people saying,
“My God, that’s tough
She stood him up
No point in us remaining
We may as well go home”
As I did on my own
Alone again, naturally

To think that only yesterday
I was cheerful, bright and gay
Looking forward to
The brutal new
The role I was about to play
But as if to knock me down
Reality came around
And without so much
As a mere touch
Cut me into little pieces
Leaving me to doubt
Talk about
God in His mercy
Oh, if he really does exist
Why did he desert me
In my hour of need
I truly am indeed
Alone again, naturally

It seems to me that
There are more hearts broken in the world
That can’t be mended
Left unattended
What do we do?
What do we do?
Alone again, naturally

Looking back over the years
And whatever else that appears
I remember I cried
When my father died
Never wishing to hide the tears
And at sixty-five years old
My mother God rest her soul
Couldn’t understand
Why the only man
She had ever loved had been taken
Leaving her to start
With a heart so badly broken
Despite encouragement from me
No words were ever spoken
And when she passed away
I cried and cried all day
Alone again, naturally
Alone again, naturally

2 Comments

Filed under Buddhism, Music, Philosophy, Religion, Rock

Soft Rock from the 1970’s: Terry Jacks, “Seasons in the Sun”

Terry Jacks from 1974. Actually the song had a much longer history dating all the way back to 1961 when it was written by a French poetger. It was later translated by Rod McKuen, the famous popular poet who many thought was a hack. The Kingston Trio recorded it in 1963 and later it was recorded by the Fortunes in 1968 and Pearls Before Swine in 1970. The Beach Boys recorded the song but never released it. Jacks was actually at that session and he encouraged the Beach Boys to perform the song. None of these versions ever took off until it was recorded by Jacks in 1974 when it became a smash hit in Europe and the US.

It was heavily derided at the time as Bubblegum and an example of what crap popular music was back then. However, I even love Bubblegum junk music, the musical equivalent of cult B-movie hits. The song had and still has many fans. It’s about a man who is dying, which I never knew in all those years I listened to it!

4 Comments

Filed under Literature, Music, Poetry, Rock

Soft Rock from the 1960’s: The Mamas and the Papas, “California Dreamin'”

My God, what a beautiful song that was. I even loved Mama Cass. I don’t care if she was fat. And John Phillips and his lovely teenage daughter! This was actually a family and a band.

1968. It was a different time back then. I was only 11, so I missed it, but I experienced the Hippie Movement just fine in the 1970’s from 1974-on. The Hippie Movement was still going strong all through the 1970’s, believe it or not, and it was not a whole lot different from the Movement in the 1960’s. Some of my acid dealer friends used to get their LSD directly form Timothy Leary’s Brotherhood of Eternal Love in Laguna Beach. This organization was headquartered in Laguna Canyon where they had rented a number of homes. They even lookouts up in the trees! Over the years, they manufactured and sold millions of hits of LSD. They were the makers of the original Orange Sunshine LSD.

I wasn’t all for peace and love though. I was actually on the mailing list for the Weather Underground!

I even have a soft spot for the Black Liberation Army, even though they were little more than criminals turned revolutionaries.

But hey, so were the Panthers.

Don’t believe me? Read Soul on Ice, and get back to me on that.

Or look up the Jackson Brothers and Angela Davis in Wikipedia. I always thought Angela Davis smuggled that gun in to the courtroom that day. Somehow the Jacksons got a hold of firearms and opened fire in a Bay Area courtroom one day in 1970. No one ever figured out how the guns got into the courtroom, but my mother always thought that Angela Davis smuggled them in in her Afro! Davis was a radical lawyer representing George Jackson and his brother, and she was there in the courthouse circus that day. A wild shootout took place in the courtroom, the judge was shot and killed (!), and both of the Jacksons were shot dead outside the courtroom by police.

Those were the days, man!

5 Comments

Filed under California, Crime, Dope, Hallucinogens, History, Intoxicants, Law enforcement, Left, LSD, Music, Regional, Revolution, Rock, US, USA, West

Why Homosexuals Are A Signalling Hazard In Traditional Societies

Why Homosexuals Are A Signalling Hazard In Traditional Societies.

I would reprint the article, but it says copyright Hestia Society, so I’d better not. This is yet another neoreaction blog. I despise reactionaries in general, but as the Cultural Left gets more and more insane, it starts making sense to not only be a social conservative (let’s stop all this change right now, enough is enough) but to be an actual social reactionary (we’ve gone way too far already – it’s time for a rollback to a saner era). That’s in part what the Alternative Left (at least my vision of it) is all about.

As far as the subject in the post, I have noticed this too, and I have been discussing it for some time now. I think I have ever written about it a bit.

Extremely out gay men have ruined all sorts of things.

I used to be a glam rocker. My favorite band was the New York Dolls, a bunch of straight men who dressed up like women for an in your face gag.

I wore silk and cotton scarves and bandanas. They drove women crazy with lust. I was told this by a few women I had sex with. Good luck wearing anything like that now. I would not do it if you paid me.

I wore velvet pants routinely. Who would dare do that now?

My favorite shirts were silk shirts. When was the last time you saw a straight man in a faggy silk shirt? I can’t even remember when.

I loved to wear platform heels, and my favorite were – get this – four inch high blue platform heels! God I loved those high heels! No straight man in his right mind would dare wearing platforms (really just another word for high heels) these days.

I used to wear very short shorts. Even back then, people were dubious about them and called them faggy. You last saw a straight guy wearing those when?

Ever see men wearing those nicely trimmed beards or very nicely trimmed mustaches? Nope, sorry. That’s for the Castro Clones now. One more thing gay men ruined.

I used to wear speedo like underwear. My brothers hated those things even back in the day. They said they were faggoty. I really didn’t care though because every time I stripped in front of a new woman, and she saw those speedo speedos, she would give out a wolf whistle or an “Awoooo!” I have a lot of those still in my drawer, but I refuse to wear them anymore. Instead I wear these boring and lame white jockey shorts. They’re dull and lame, but at least they aren’t suspect.

I also loved wearing something called a short kimono. Supposedly Japanese men like to wear these things in the house and maybe even outside the house. The short kimono is for men and the long kimono is for women. I would wear it over my shirt and pants like some sort of a robe. Even back then, this garment was very suspect, and I remember once when I met a friend wearing that, I could tell he was just barely resisting the urge to punch me in the face. But I even wore them on dates, and no one cared. I also used to wear Hugh Hefner style smoking jackets over my shirts and pants. I only wore them on one date, but the woman cooed over it. I would not wear that stuff nowadays if you paid me.

Back in the day, a lot of men wore pink. I rather like the color actually. You could wear pink on a date with a chick, and she would think nothing of it. The line back then was, “I’m secure enough to wear pink,” said with a nonchalant shrug. When was the last time you saw a straight man wearing pink? I recently met a woman originally from Colombia, and I was chatting her up. I told her I liked to wear pink, and she flipped out and started yelling at me and calling me a faggot in Spanish. I insisted that I was straight, and she modified her insult to some word that meant “wimpy, pussy, faggoty straight guy.” It was not much of a consolation.

Back in those days, the general assumption was “straight until proven otherwise,” and the barrier for proving homo- or bisexuality was quite great because few men were doing these things, and those that were acted pretty quiet about it. Arab men at my local store and even a lot of Mexican men still believe in “straight until proven otherwise.” Homosexuality is simply never discussed, and anyone who brings it up is suspect and the conversational shift is greeted with shock and open hostility, though the older Arab man my age found male homosexuality to be ridiculously hilarious.

“Straight until proven otherwise” is a great way to run a society. I love it. Nowadays it is actually homophobic to assume that men are straight until proven otherwise. In other words, what was once common sense and good manners is now regarded as hatred of gay men!

The fanny pack I wear is almost never used by anyone, though they were popular with men in the 1990’s. Now that gays are so much more out though, I suppose most men will not be caught dead with one. Women I am trying to seduce openly mock me for wearing a fanny pack, and they are my age! I like to play along and jokingly call it my “fag pack.” Nevertheless, I will not leave the door without it, and I am convinced that all men should carry some sort of a handbag. Purses are not just for women, you know. We men need purses too, call them whatever you want – handbag, fanny pack, etc. European men have been carrying them forever now. But here in the US with all these wildly out gay men, good luck with that.

I still like to wear my girlfriends’ clothes sometimes (assuming they fit). Sweaters, fur coats, socks and shirts work best. Pajamas are a tough call, but I do wear their pajamas, especially the silk ones. My girlfriends think it is hilarious, and they love to give me their clothes to wear. A recent girlfriend offered to put some eyeliner on me. I was going to do it. A gay man on my site heard that I wore my girlfriends’ clothes, and his assumption was that obviously I must be gay or bi. He simply could not comprehend a straight man doing such a thing. That did not compute.

Friendships among straight men, especially very close ones, have also been sort of weird, uncomfortable and somewhat hazardous, but nowadays it seems like they are getting rarer.

When I first moved to Los  Angeles, I had another man for a roommate. He was pretty damn weird, and he was not completely straight, but he was predominantly straight. He was just weird and hard-up. One night while I was watching TV the door to his room opened very slowly. The crack slowly widened. Soon there was my roommate standing the barely opened doorway, naked as the day he was born. He had a bizarre thousand yard stare in his eyes like some alien force or pod people had colonized his brain. I turned quickly away with a “I didn’t see that!” notion, and later on, his weird behavior that night was never discussed. What was I supposed to say about it? But he never did it again.

Anyway, I went to visit my grandma once, and she looked at me with a grave look and talked in sheer seriousness, “Yes, that was when you were living with that other man…” I didn’t say anything. What can you say to a comment like that?

But inside, I flipped. My own grandma thought I was a faggot! She should have known better. Did she have any idea of how I had lived my life? Me!? The guy who, at age 24, had already dated ~50-75 females and was a legend in my neighborhood? The guy who won Player of the Year two years straight and one year won Most Valuable Player? Apparently it was all a fraud and a cover-up. I was actually a closeted faggot the whole time! Who knew?

Ever since then, I have never roomed with another man. For guess what reason? I’ve lived alone and had to move back to my parents house a few times when it was either that or homelessness. The Hell if I will have another male roommate as long as I live. So there’s one more thing gay men ruined. Straight male roommates.

I had a friend who was in a sort of a glam rock band. Most of the other guys were these tough, half-Mexican guys, so tough they almost seemed like street gang members. They all had seriously hot girlfriends. But for some bizarre reason, they were into kissing the other guys in the band. I don’t know what it meant, but I think it was some New York Dolls type thing where they weren’t gay at all but they kissed each other as some gag. My friend hated that.

One time my friend was at a party in a bathroom, and the other band member kissed him. A young woman was entering the bathroom at the same time, and she jumped for joy and insisted that they were both gay. “I love gay men! I love gay men!” she gushed, plunking herself down on the toilet. They tried to explain to her that they weren’t gay, but she would have none of it.

I have told people about my friend’s band and they insisted that the band members were gay. I told a gay man once, and he stated that if they kissed each other, they were obviously gay. They simply not be otherwise. It made no sense.

One guy in the band was actually wimpy in some ways. He had a girlish face, very long dark hair, and loved to wear a bit of makeup (all the guys in the band were way into makeup, and my friend had to go along). He was so femmy in some ways that he would actually scream and jump up on a chair if he saw a mouse or if there was an insect in the house. On the other hand, he was this tough half-Mexican who gave off a street gang member vibe and he had a seriously hot girlfriend, so he was clearly a pure androgyne. I told the same gay man about this, and he absolutely insisted that the guy was gay due to his reactions to rodents and bugs. It simply had to be the case. There could be no other explanation for his behavior.

The mental and physical spaces we straight men can move around in without suspicion have progressively constricted as homosexuality has become more and more open.

Thanks a lot, gays!

158 Comments

Filed under Conservatism, Cultural Marxists, Culture, Gender Studies, Glam, Heterosexuality, Homosexuality, Left, Man World, Music, Political Science, Rock, Sex, Social Problems, Sociology

Loggins and Messina, “Danny’s Song”

Another great 1970’s soft rock duo lost to the mists of time. These guys were absolutely huge back in the day. Fantastic music! From 1971! Enjoy!

People smile and tell me I’m the lucky one
And we’ve just begun
Think I’m gonna have a son
He will be like she and me, as free as a dove
Conceived in love
Sun is gonna shine above

And even though we ain’t got money
I’m so in love with ya honey
And everything will bring a chain of love
And in the morning when I rise
You bring a tear of joy to my eyes
And tell me everything is gonna be alright

Seems as though a month ago I beta chi
Never got high
Oh, I was a sorry guy
And now a smile, a face, a girl that shares my name
Now I’m through with the game
This boy will never be the same

And even though we ain’t got money
I’m so in love with ya honey
And everything will bring a chain of love
And in the morning when I rise
you bring a tear of joy to my eyes
And tell me everything is gonna be alright

Pisces Virgo rising is a very good sign,
strong and kind
And the little boy is mine
Now I see a family where there once was none
now we’ve just begun
Yeah, we’re gonna fly to the sun

And even though we ain’t got money
I’m so in love with ya honey
And everything will bring a chain of love
And in the morning when I rise
You bring a tear of joy to my eyes
And tell me everything is gonna be alright

Love the girl who holds the world in a paper cup
Drink it up
Love her and she’ll bring you luck
And if you find she helps your mind, buddy, take her home
Don’t you live alone
Try to earn what lovers own

And even though we ain’t got money
I’m so in love with ya honey
And everything will bring a chain of love
And in the morning when I rise, you bring a tear of joy to my eyes
And tell me everything is gonna be alright

3 Comments

Filed under Music, Rock

Lynn Anderson, “Rose Garden”

Damn! This is good music! Country music, straight from the USA, the only real American music of all the genres. Country music is straight up American. It came right out of the USA. Most other music came from somewhere else in one way or another. But country music can never be anything but American, for better or for worse.

I don’t like country music too much, but there have definitely been some great country music songs out there. George Jones was almost one of the original punk rockers, let’s face it. And Hank Williams Jr. will always be one of the all-time greats. Let’s not forget the great Patsy Cline. So it’s redneck? So what? If rednecks can make good music, I will listen to it. I don’t have to vote for them or agree with them, but I will rock on to any good music out there. I don’t care who’s putting it out.

I always thought this was sung by Dolly Parton, but I guess not. Sung by someone named Lynn Anderson who I have never heard of. But her voice is as good as Dolly’s, and I can see how it would be mistaken for Dolly’s.

All the way back from 1970! I was only 13 years old.

I beg your pardon
I never promised you a rose garden.
Along with the sunshine
There’s gotta be a little rain sometime.
When you take you gotta give
So live and let live, or let go.
I beg your pardon
I never promised you a rose garden.

I could promise you things
Like big diamond rings.
But you don’t find roses
Growin’ on stalks of clover
So you better think it over.
Well, if sweet talkin’ you
Could make it come true.
I would give you the world
right now on a silver platter.
But what would it matter?
So smile for a while and let’s be jolly.
Love shouldn’t be so melancholy.
Come along and share the good times while we can.

I beg your pardon
I never promised you a rose garden.
Along with the sunshine
there’s gotta be a little rain sometime.

I beg your pardon
I never promised you a rose garden.
I could sing you a tune
and promise you the moon.
But if that’s what it takes to hold you
I’d just as soon let you go.
But there’s one thing I want you to know.
You better look before you leap
Still waters run deep.
And there won’t always be someone
There to pull you out.
And you know what I’m talkin’ about.
So smile for a while and let’s be jolly.
Love shouldn’t be so melancholy.
Come along and share the good times while we can.

I beg your pardon
I never promised you a rose garden.
Along with the sunshine
there’s gotta be a little rain sometime.

2 Comments

Filed under Music, Regional, USA