Me And Covid Down By The Schoolyard

(to the tune of Paul Simon’s “Me And Julio Down By The Schoolyard”)

Day 12 of my Trump parody a day endeavor until the election. I started on the 18th so it’ll be 17 days, 17 parodies by election day (yes, I have the material, believe me. I’ve been busy paying attention and feeling tuneful).

Another Paul Simon here and a bit of a Covid take.

Also another of my favorites.

(originally posted here in the Attic July 18, 2020)

 

 

Me and Covid Down By The Schoolyard

Check Check

Hello?

Is this thing on?

Can ya hear me in the back?

 

Trumpy the Tinpot rolled in his head

Reasons for his orange misfortune

He was convinced it was a plot at sabotage

And he silenced all investigation

 

It’s just not fair

My me up in the air

I whine it’s just not fair

Of what else do I care

 

Trumpy looked round scored blame to be found

Shafting all engaged organizations

Telling smart to take a hike, stupid’s got this round

You can trust of our best intentions

 

Well we’re on our way

To worst response we just say ‘fake’

We’re on our way

Taking blind time

Hoping it goes away

Goodbye science, we’re King of Corona

 

Seein’ Me and Covid

Down by the schoolyard

Seein’ Me and Covid

Down by the schoolyard

 

(Break …)

 

Wahhh-Ooooh

 

If we send ‘em back to school

Everything would sure be cool

Pretty up re-election chances

Kennedy a mental not (knot)

Played tough and took a shot

At teachers he can kiss the ass of

 

Well we’re on our way

To worst response we just say ‘fake’

We’re on our way

Taking blind time

Hoping it goes away

Goodbye science, we’re King of Corona

 

Me and Covid

Down by the schoolyard

Seein’ Me and Covid

Down by the schoolyard

Seein Me and Covid

Down in the graveyard

 

Hey?

Did you hear me in the back alright?

Hello?

You suck

Thank you

You’re welcome

 

Check Check

Hello?…..

These Are Trump Days

(to the tune of “Those Were The Days” – Mary Hopkin 1968)        

The 11th day now of posting one of my Trump parody tunes every day (for 17 days) until the election. 

Went back a ways for this tune.

This was also a tough one as I wrote it at the time of George Floyd’s murder and the protests that followed.

(originally posted in the Attic here June 6, 2020)

 

 

 

(for George)

These Are Trump Days

Once upon a time there was a nation

A proud one come about but fraught with pain

Of dealing with an oh so shameful histr’y

A one that doesn’t seem to want to change

 

These are Trump days my friend

We pray there’ll be an end

As we dance now beneath jackbooted feet

We try to have our say

But are tear gassed away

These are Trump days yes sadly they’re trump days

 

La La La La La La La

Won’t you get off my neck

Oh momma please I need ya momma please

 

And now the matter’s gotten so much bleaker

Not better as you’d hope histr’y would learn

And presidents who should be our uniters

Instead opt to take messianic turns

 

These are Trump days my friend

Please God help make them end

I cannot breathe my eyes they want to bleed

We tried to have our say

For light to lead the way

But it’s Trump days, we’re lost amid Trump days

 

La La La La La La La

Won’t you get off my neck

Oh momma please I need ya momma please

 

He stood in the Rose garden claimed alliance

With pro-testers on a peaceful go

But then he strapped on his small orange jackboots

went for a walk to turn this into show

 

These are Trump days my friend

Please God ya have to send

An angel’s mercy on our hapless lot

Who just want things to change but cannot in this age

These are Trump days, he won’t allow the ways

 

La La La La La La La

Won’t you get off my neck

Oh momma please I need ya momma please

 

La La La La La La La

Please just get off his neck

His momma wants to see her son again

 

There comes a day where me must be deciders

Of fate that’s dark continued going back

Or a one that tries to move us forward

Something that is more than just attack

 

These … are … Trump … days my friend

Heavens please help us mend

Help us push back on tyrants on the roam

To help us save the weak

Knees under cannot speak

These are Trump days, the devil’s in Trump days

 

La La La La La La La

Won’t you get off my nec

Oh momma please I need ya momma please

 

La La La La La La La

Please just get off his neck

These mommas want to see their sons again

Being For The Benefit Of All That’s White (And A Moscow Mitch)

(to the Beatles “Being For The Benefit Of Mr. Kite)

Day 10 of a Trump parody tune a day for 17 days until the election.

Sticking with the Beatles today and one on Trump rallies from a year ago.

(originally posted at Frankenberry’s Attic @ Blogspot August 8, 2019)

 

 

Being For The Benefit Of All That’s White (And A Moscow Mitch) 

For the benefit of all that’s white

We’ll re-visit Nuremberg tonight

So gather round

Fox pundits they will gladly share

Masking bias they no long-ger care

Cage the brown

And four congresswomen we’ll chant send back

Accusing them of being on attack

In this way Trumpy D he poisons the well

 

The ignorance of this Trump D

Rallies at a furious speed to gather base

The Tucker’s Hannitys are there

Fox and Friends as well don’t care, lets bring the hate

His lapdogs blindly follow suit

Justify his words or just hit mute

And of course Mitch’s elephant dances the worst

………………………………..

The white takes hold at half past black

Un-American the tried true tack

Let’s send them back

He’ll propagate a fantasy, new histry’s order

On favorite stage, he’s got a knack

It’s 2 plus years of prep-a-ration

To induce separation of this Klan

And tonight Trumpy D he’ll go for the kill

………………………………..

(For the benefit of all that’s white

Mitch blocked a bill to try and right

Our voting plight

The Russians he invites back in

Others please come join the din

Truth take flight

A complicit GOP it plans to benefit

Renewed elector’l hack

Free-dom suffers elephant’s wrath

A planned whackety whackety whackety whackety whaaack

Their treason’s always on the attack)

 

Trump D’s Golden Scepter

 

(to the tune of “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer)

Day 9 of a Trump parody tune a day until the election (I started last Sunday the 18th).

A most bestest of friend of mine (yeh, I said most bestest … what of it?) who I sent a rough draft of this, texted me to complain of an ear worm. Apologies I said, but, selfishly, I’m all good with complaints of an ear worm. I’ll take that as a compliment to some of my endeavor’s annoying stick-in-the-headedness.

Though I’ve posted my collection of Beatles/Trump tunes from the last year or so, The Orange Album, it seems that wasn’t the last of Beatles pieces. 

This one is fun.

Tap a toe if you’d like.

(originally posted February 15, 2020)

 

 

Trump D’s Golden Scepter

Don wasn’t quizzical

It seemed to him illogical

To find truth that leaves no doubt

Don’t allow intelligence in this

Hou-hou-hou-house

 

He hid his shortcomings

In wordy salad long goings

He makes no sense at all

But staff always picks up the messy dropped word

Ba-a-a-all

 

But just then that damn press it drops by

To point out all his lies

 

Bang! Bang! Trump D’s Golden Scepter

Came down upon their heads

Bang! Bang! Trump D’s Golden Scepter

Would threaten them be dead

 

Back at podium

He sings his tried true stratagem

Of playing victim’s card

Dem’s they are just mean

As you all have

See-ee-ee-een

 

He tells ‘merica

Believe Mob King Republica

Vindicated now

And those who don’t agree will pay dearly

And how-ow-ow-ow

 

The swamp’s tides getting much stronger now

So he paddles up with no mind

 

Bang! Bang! Trump D’s Golden Scepter

Comes down upon our heads

(doo doo doo doo)

Bang! Bang! Trump D’s Golden Scepter

Dissension will be dead

 

Bang! Bang! Trump D’s Golden Scepter

Would turn us all to red

(doo doo doo doo)

Bang! Bang! Trump D’s Golden Scepter

Loyalty it must be bred

 

His senate they are all in line

Claiming everything is fine

Dem’s are those to blame

Future now an easier despot

Ga-a-a-ame

 

Lindsey and lackey crows

Talk around with Fox News shows

Espousing all the lies

While Mitch hopes to continue with Russian

Tie-i-i-ies

 

And the GOP laughs right in our face

As the Trump tries to force blind

 

Bang! Bang! Trump D’s Golden Scepter

Held high above our heads

(doo doo doo doo)

Bang! Bang! Trump D’s Golden Scepter

Propaganda’s never dead

whoa whoa whoa whoa!

 

(doo doo doo doo)

 

Golden Scepter

 

Ding Ding

You Can Call Me King

(to the tune of Paul Simon’s “You Can Call Me Al”)

And on the 8th day the Lord said “shit, I’m working harder than I thought” …

Day 8 of a Trump parody a day until the election, a re-posting of some of my tunes that I started this past Sunday.

Re-visiting Paul Simon and another one of my faves.

I’m a fan of the “Na Na’s”.

(originally posted March 7, 2020)

You Can Call Me King

A man lies as he breathes
He says why would you trust another now
Who can you possibly trust
Now I’ve shown you what my facts is
A fascist truth sledgehammer
Nuthin’ else believe-able matters
Other than this con in this con man’s swamptown

(and a-oooh ah-oooh)

Lap dogs in orange swamplight
Here’s a lie-ball GOP go fetch excuses

Newsman, newsman
Get these facts away from me, ya know,
No one finds real truth interesting anymore

If you’ll loyalty me blind
I can be your despot chum
I can call you subject
And subject you adore me
You can call me Czar

This man original Trumper says
There can never be a never me
If there’s a never me they’ll never be
Happy in a sea of me
Where will the answers come from
If I don’t truly be-lieve
Who will I turn to when
The truth slaps me
Awake and awake
To the harsh realities
Of Moscow Mitch’s word marble hypocriteness
Hammers and sickles
Getting stocked up in the open
Along with some of the finest cossack hats

If you’ll loyalty me blind
I’ll let you kneel and kiss my ring
I can call you subject
And subject you adore me
You can call me King
You can call me King

A man late night he’s tweeting
How he’s a victim in this world
Maybe it’s a big blue meanie world
Where they’re just out to get him
And they don’t see his genius
Or see how great he his
The greatest all narcissists
Surrounding himself with nothing more than
Clowns clowns
Who dance for him like marionettes
In a tiny orange circus

He checks the mirror again
Sees Messiah staring back at him
At least that’s what the hacks say
And he so believes them

If you’ll loyalty me blind
I can be your despot chum
I can call you subject
And subject you adore me
You can call me Don

Na-na-na-na-na
Just call me king-na-na
You can kiss my ring na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Loyalties the thing na-na
Better never sing na-na
I’ll take your everything na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na

Ummmm ah-ah
Ummmm ah-ah
Better give up mind now

Ummmm ah-ah
Ummmm ah-ah
You’ll be just fine now

Ummmm ah-ah
Ummmm ah-ah
Just a matter of time now

Ummmm ah-ah
Ummmm ah-ah
Democracy dies now

If you’ll loyalty me blind

I’ll let you kneel and kiss my ring

I can call you subject

And subject you adore me

You can call me King

Baby General’s Golden Black Heart’s Band / Sky’s Orange When You’ve Got Blind Friends

(to the tune of Sergeant Pepper)

Day 7 of 17 days worth of Trump parody tunes until the election.

(Originally posted at Frankenberry’s Attic @ Blogspot – 06-30-19)

 

Baby General’s Golden Black Heart’s Band / Sky’s Orange When You’ve Got Blind Friends

It was two plus years ago today

That baby general came to have his say

In a propagandist fascist style

With his lies he’d go the extra mile

He’d hammer them unto the red

IQ’s regressing in his stead

Baby general’s golden black heart’s band

 

We’re baby general’s golden black heart’s band

We play you all ya need to know

Baby general’s golden black heart’s klan

The torches are only for show

Baby general’s cor-rupt

Baby general’s morally

Baby general’s bankrupt black heart’s band

 

There’s nothing to be seen here

Just back room in the know

There’s such important work be done

Now won’t you all just pray with us

We love it when you’re dumb

 

We don’t want you to be in the know

But we make you feel you’re in the show

Keep you happy swimming in the glow

Helps suck you in the undertow

Now let us to present to you

The sad and lonely Orange years

Baby general’s golden black heart’s band

 

Trump D’s victim’s tears…

 

What would you say if I sang you a lie

So obvious you can’t deny?

But you take it and then get to singin’ along

Cause re-ality it don’t apply

 

Oh, the sky’s purple when you’ve got blind friends

Mmm it’s any color when the truth gets bent

Mmm the sky’s orange is the new message sent

 

What would you say if I filled you with hate

Gave you an enemy you could detest

Locked them away less than human they’re caged

As you lend deaf ear to mankind’s rage

 

Oh, the sky’s black to go along with blue

Mmm your hu-manity now shares that hue

Mmm your sold souls invent a diff-er-ent view

 

Could you think you need saving?

That will surely come bust

Do you need to get praying?

But only to an orange need’s lust

 

Where will we be when sad histr’y holds true

(do you re-alize that there’s a cost?)

It’s measured in lives deemed be less than they be

(can you jus-tify the ones we toss?)

 

Oh you get by when smallish minds stay small

Mmm to think more’s an order way too tall

Ooohh there’s no longer a sure one for all

 

Do you feel the en-emy’s breath

(when it’s their last just at our door-step)

Does it feel sad em-powerin’

(to de-value them as he has pled)

 

Oh you get by when it’s a think of group

Mmm it’s much eas’r in an ignorance troupe

Mmm you ‘splain why but only in a vacuum

Yes you get by

Believin’ nationalist lies

You’re just a means to his end

Aaaahhhh

Karen’s Been Triggered

(to the tune of “Eleanor Rigby” with lyrics by Rick Cross)

Day 6 of a Trump parody tune a day till the election that started this past Sunday.  17 days worth.

Eleanor Rigby is one of my favorite Beatles tunes and, with my initial thought with these parodies to build an “album’s” worth of Beatles songs Eleanor Rigby certainly came to mind as a song subject, but I was afraid I could never hit the “Ahhh’s” so I didn’t even try.

Then my buddy Rick, a buddy of more than 30 years now dating back to our time at WVU when he was the editor of the school newspaper and I was some grad student stranger who approached him with an idea for regular humor column about two off center fictional WVU students and best pals and their adventures on campus. I knew I liked him when he didn’t laugh me out of his office for just walking in off the street to ask for a  column. That column ended up working out pretty well, along with our friendship. 

Anyway, not too long ago he sent me some lyrics he’d written to Eleanor Rigby. They were perfect for our troubled and maddening times.  After giving him the thumbs up at words well done I thought to take a “singing” stab at it, hell he did the hard part right? All I had to do was actually see if I could hit the “Ahhh’s”

(originally posted May 16, 2020)

Note: The sad #’s in this were from the time it was written. They obviously have gotten so much sadder.

 

Karen’s Been Triggered

Ahhh, look at all the hateful people

Ahhh, look at these ungrateful people

 

Karen’s been triggered

Pickets outside of a church where a gay wedding’s been

This love is a sin

Waits at her stylist in an angry red face mask that matches her MAGA hat’s tinge

Where to begin?

 

All the frightened people

Why do they hide their eyes?

All the angry people

While our republic dies

 

President Donnie

Face slack and ugly and troll-like and ready to sneer

Mindless drones cheer

Look at him preening

Feckless old monster, his mantra is greed, hate and fear

Let’s end his career

 

All the selfish people

Who teaches them this stuff?

All the stubborn people

How many dead’s enough?

 

Ahhh, look at all the hateful people

Ahhh, look at these ungrateful people

 

Karen’s still triggered

Gasping for air on machines in a hospital hall

Why won’t her god call?

President Donnie

Shrugs and ignores digging up 80,000 new graves

It’s money he craves

 

All the coughing people (Ah, look at all the hateful people)

Was Easter service nice?

All the toxic people (Ah, look at these ungrateful people)

Who’ll make no sacrifice…

It Was A Dead Day

(to the tune of Paul Simon’s “The Boy In The Bubble”)

Day 5 of a Trump parody a day for 17 days until the election. Decided in my sanity saving fun that I came to like Paul Simon tunes after doing  a version of “You Can Call Me Al” (another of my parody faves that will be included here before done). There’s a bounce to them and who doesn’t like a good bounce? A version of “Me And Julio Down By The Schoolyard” will also be in the mix to come. 

But anyway, here is a “Boy In The Bubble” take.

(originally posted in the Attic May 23, 2020)

 

 

It Was A Dead Day

It was a dead day

A day to start dying

Cavalier severe consequence

Another bold lie

Masquerading as bravado

Self preservation festering

As it always does

 

These were the days of self-interest and some bluster

It was the usual roll … call

Of made up facts and imaginary figures

All in a spotlight’s glow

A new ways for a sudden realization

Of a daily narcissistic’s call

These are the days of stupidity and blunder

And Baby I’ll lie, I’ll lie

… I’ll lie

 

It was a cruel truth

As it swept across a nation

That we weren’t prepared

As we wished we could

Have been more in line

With science not a State News

As the blame game took root

Following us around … us around

 

These are the days of stupidity and blunder

A Lysol dream much better than vaccine

The way the presser was a mini rally e-vent

Until embarrassment called

The way the pundits try to search a new distraction

A shiny catch of wandering eye

These are the days of stupidity and blunder

And baby I’ll lie, I’ll lie

… I’ll lie

 

It’s extreme now a violence

A base that’s so inclined to such

Encouraged to stray from the middle of the road

Down an angry dark path of ignorance and bullets

Dead innocents in Michigan for what a maskless sake?

 

These are the days of cowards passing muster

Try and make a momma so proud

A certain sense of purpose of the stupid

Empowered by the man upstairs

These are the days of stupidity and bluster

Momma’s proud somewhere

So proud a follower of the Trump Dumb Down

In his wake blindly with no care oh yeah

 

The way you find yourself and your own violence

But then you just have to cry

At the thought that drove you in the first place

Here

Oh my

Oh my …

Trumpian Design

(to the tune of “Industrial Disease” – Dire Straits)

Day 4 of the posting of one of my Trump parodies everyday (from this past Sunday) until the election.

Now of course, with all the parody tunes I’ve put together over the last couple of years I do have some favorites. This is one of them as it’s my favorite Dire Straits song and it’s also my second version of this. I did one years ago, to the topic of creationism trying to disguise itself as actual science under the moniker Intelligent Design, as part of a radio morning show here in the Hudson Valley, so doing a new version brought back some fond memories. I still miss that show.

The intro is a bit long, song kicks in around the :54 mark.

(originally posted here in the Attic December 7, 2019)

 

Trumpian Design

There’s warning light’s a flashin’ for a Trumpian reprieve

There was some election riggin’, with some Russians up a sleeve

But Dem’s they did some diggin’ to more meddlin’ goin’ round

And now they’re out to make sure that the walls they come down

 

There’s a meeting in the Congress they’re talkin’ of impeach

One side says yes let’s do it, to the other it’s a reach

But the other side’s brought nothing but debunked conspiracies

Goodness me could this be a Trumpian Disease?

 

The President feels justified in talking to the folks

Refusin’ to be quieted and sayin’ it’s no joke

His phone call it was perfect, no ulterior design

He wasn’t tryin’ get help for this new election time

 

But there’s panic for the Elephant’s these Donkeys all are nuts

The oft repeated tired spin will tell you what is what

That the problem that persists with the Dems all of the time

Is them fighting against great leader’s Trumpian Design

 

State news pundits sure are down with perpetuating lies

Even Moscow Tucker claims he’d be Ok with Russian ties

Of rooting them to victory if that need be the case

Or condemning ol’ Ukraine to help trump D who’s his ace

And Trumpy’s lackey lapdogs are now picking up the pace

Of lies needed protect him ‘fore the Senate do they race

Where they’re better able set the Circus Trump he so inclines

To make a victim’s case and prove his Trumpian Design

 

Now William The Low Barr declared

There’s no crimes to be seen here, he’s the President ya know

He’s above law, never fear

Now he hired me to be his hatchet gun and yes man shill

To protect from prosecution while I drink this orange swill

 

So I openly investigate investigators then

Prove wacky 4 chan theories of disloyal deep state men

So I can come back with a pre-determined breaking news release

That will prove out the correctness of a Trumpian Disease

 

Now we go down Washington DC where they’re in the muck

Of a swamp that ain’t been drained just deeper & run amok

With all his jailhouse friends most found under a bus

But there’s still some who are waitin’ to hear a pardon’s fuss

 

While his blood bound GOP who he’s got upon their knees

Say yes sir, no sir, of course sir, anything that you please

We’ll protect you oh great leader from the dreaded Dem blue sleaze

We’ll throw up smoke & mirrors for you on your Trump Trapeze

 

They’ll point out they’re the enemy to keep folks mute & blind

That they should be a’feared of Dems & all those of their kind

That they speak of socialism & the evils of the trees

But you’re the God chose new Messiah heaven gave ya keys

 

Meanwhile God just throws his hands exasperation real

He can’t believe what is unfolding just what is the deal

A party selling country out while building a lie shrine

To their new Monarch’s Trumpian Design

 

Yeh, that’s it … a Trumpian Design … Hey producer guy? Yeh, you … can we get the sound of ya know of tanks and a flyover here or somethin’? … the sound of boots too, tall ones, really hard heels … boots doin’ some marchin’ … well crowd noise, good idea … get some crowd noise …  big crowd noise though, ‘kay? … then, maybe throw in some of the best words from some of the best speeches … by any President … ever … this is gonna be great …

Dashed Hopes

3rd day of re-posts of my parody tunes, one a day until the election. A recent one and a bit of Sinatra. 

(originally posted on August 1, 2020)

 

 

Dashed Hopes

Next time you’re downed

With your neck on the ground

Under Trump secret hounds

Hope you’ll be found

 

Just what makes that orange old rat

Think he controls like with a mob bat

Pretending to be a strong man

Like his tyrannical pals

 

Yes, we’ve got dashed hopes

We’ve got dashed hopes

We’ve got Trump in the ear wishin’ we’re deaf hopes

 

But any time you cannot breathe

When your eyes they bleed

Just remember that rat

 

Ohhhhh …

Ooops there goes another tear gas ball

Ooops there goes another pro-jec-tile

Ooops there goes another despotic rant

 

When trouble calls

And self interest rules all

Re-election a must

Make show of balls

 

Now there is a William Low Barr

His lies to the public taken so far

Now he just has to double down

To protect his said rat

 

Cause he’s a dasher of law

He’s a masher of truth

He’s a disingenuine hack a liar’s real Babe Ruth

 

So anytime you hear Barr speak

Know the truth’s been tweaked

It actually just don’t exist

 

Ohhhhh …

Ooops there goes another Low Barr lie

Ooops there goes another Low Barr try

Anoint Trump King and see democracy die

 

(break)

 

Big problems don’t seem to be enough

To try and make death stop

When power’s priority’s top

 

Ohhhhh …

Ooops there goes another blame to throw

Ooops there goes more ignorance in the flow

Ooops there goes some even more childish woe

 

Ya think?