Plácido Domingo and Fats Domino both begged to render the Lawdy! album vocals. To settle the matter they agreed to a joust, winner gets to sing, loser's gotta spin-cycle Ann Coulter in the backseat of a '54 Hudson. Unfortunately, the winner — to be revealed during a special "Girl Scout Cookies Gone Wild" video — came down with laryngitis the day of the recording. Steve was forced to handle the vocal chores himself.
Not even that government expert who goes on TV and says "yeah, that's Osama's voice on the tape" could tell Steve's voice from the joust winner. Okay, maybe a couple of notes are a little out of tune. But it's not Steve's fault. The day before the recording session his vocal coach had her work-release revoked after a bloody laundry room incident. Thank God for the warden's OxiClean!
But in the interests of world peace, let us set our bloody laundry aside and listen to the four Lawdy! album selections in the column to the left. Just click to play. The lyrics to all the album selections are available below for your enjoyment...or revulsion, if revulsion pleases you.
While you're at it, check out the album credits. And don't miss Steve's no-holds-barred interview with Leonid Fedder, jazz critic of The Chernobyl Semi-free Press. It's as exciting as anything you've ever done without a lampshade on your head!
Lawdy! Tune List and Lyrics
- Goin’ Out the Door
Mabel told me where I could shove my love
She said, "Stick it in your Weed-Eater, my turtle dove"
She fed my heart to the dog, then used him to mop the bathroom floor
I was dumped in the crapper by the woman I adore
Mabel said, "Honey, my honey-bunny,
Ain't lost love funny?"
Then she took my stocks, she took my bonds,
She took my money
She left me with the mortgage and a herpes sore
I was still coming while she was going out the door
She said, "Slam it in the car door dip it in a pound of liver
But you ain't slidin' that sliver into my in my quiver no more"
Mabel was running the table and I was only keeping score
I was dumped in the crapper by the woman I adore
Mabel said, "Honey, my honey-bunny,
Ain't lost love funny?"
Then she took my stocks, she took my bonds,
She took my money
She left me with the mortgage and a herpes sore
I was still coming while she was going out the door - Lawdy!
Who teaches his kids to hate Christians and Jews?
And even Muslims with different views?
His scam is really hard to beat:
An oil hooker workin' both sides of the street!
So, if it's friendship he's professin'
While women he's oppressin';
He's funding terror and his palace is gaudy
Lawdy, lawdy lawdy, must be a Saudi!
Who sends Osama American bucks
So he can blow up Americans just for yucks?
Who talks the talk out of both sides of his face?
His words are capital; his actions lowercase!
So, if it's friendship he's professin'
While women he's oppressin';
He's funding terror and his palace is gaudy
Lawdy, lawdy lawdy, must be a Saudi!
The House of Saud rules a land of magic and rhyme
Where hot air blow the blow's desert sands
East and West at the same damn time - Bathhouse Buddy Crisco
The boys are in the bathhouse with Buddy
Playin' Spank the Frank and Grope
Naked's the attire when the Fire Island Squire
Buddy Crisco drops the soap
The entire Isle of Fire wants Buddy
Twistin' his piston they hope
Yeah, it's huff 'n' puff 'n' blow the man down
When Bathhouse Buddy Crisco drops the soap
Just tease "pretty please" and he's down on his knees
Havin' a ball with your bat
The Lord of Lubrication, a petrochemical sensation,
He'll wave his magic wand and pull a gerbil out of your hat!
It's standing room only in the bathhouse
Trou' down around their knees
When the Prince of Petroleum Jelly,
Buddy Crisco drops his keys
Rap
A bathhouse blood's curriculography
Is the geography of pornography
That's where the boys map a course of study
To the best way to Mount Buddy
It's a Richter-scale yank when Buddy pulls his rank
High-fivin' that big "Okeydoke!"
The entire aqueerium's in a frenzy of delirium,
Lusting to lather his soap-on-a- rope!
It's standing room only in the bathhouse
Trou' down around their knees
When the Prince of Petroleum Jelly,
Buddy Crisco drops his keys
They get down and dirty with his up-periscope
When Buddy Crisco drops the soap
They launch their BVDs thru their dungarees
When Bathhouse Buddy Crisco drops his key - A Spring Thing
The twitters and tweets and the sweet blooms they bring
Spittin' big globs of crud in the early spring
Sudafed, Flonase and Claritin "D"
Your nose is honkin' incessantly
The beauty of spring the swollen eye sees
Your mold spore wheeze and your ragweed sneeze
Mountain cedar dancing sweet in the breeze
A record pollen count; pass the Kleenex, please!
You'll feel better, never fear
But it'll come back worse next year
Blossoms and fruit bring birds on the wing
Spittin' big globs of crud in the early spring
Decongestants, antihistamines, immunotherapy
Slurp chicken soup, suck a vitamin "C"
Big globs of crud in the early spring - Punxsutawney Phyllis
I give up sex for Lent every Easter;
Pack my hormones away
But each February second on Groundhog Day
My desire catches fire for some keester,
And I gotta see Phyllis, my anemic bulimic
From Punxsutawney, PA
She swills frenetic on the diuretic
To forge that less-is-more aesthetic
My lovin' bag of bones with the barfin' jones
Even her toothpaste is dietetic
If Phyllis sees her shadow it's six more weeks of diet
If she doesn't see her shadow, she has a cookie
Need some lovin'? She'll supply it
Lives on lettuce and pills and nookie
Blows off breakfast every morning
Blows lunch the rest of the day
She goes to the movies without popcorning,
My pill-poppin' puker from Punxsutawney, PA
So let's all toss our cookies, barf a bunch,
Blow lunch, blow lunch, blow lunch!
So let's all toss our cookies, barf a bunch,
Blow lunch, blow lunch, blow lunch! - The Paws of Claus
As the holiday approaches I put on my big elf ears
I starch my tights, yet I know it's all in vain
He'll get his Christmas goose with the cons and roaches
So I brush a way my tears
I miss him, though when I was his little helper,
He only caused me pain
Christmas comes but once a year
But for me there is no Christmas cheer
'Cause Santa once fondled my little pink rear
He thumped my rump as he caroled "Little Drummer Boy”
Buh-rum-buh-bum-bump
I begged, "Get your paws off me Claus,
I'm not your Christmas goose!"
But he just snorted a line of Viagra
To give his limp North Pole a boost
Now old Santa's stashed in the pen
For kiddie porn, five-to-ten
He's old and pale and sick and frail
With no more Viagra to raise his bail
Yes, Christmas still comes once a year
But I may never come again
Not 'til Santa claws me again - King Larry
Princess Grace, she used to stay at my place
I'm Larry King, I knew Bob Hope and Bing and Sting
I know the Ghandis, Indira and Mahatma
Every Christmas I got candies from my good friend, Frank Sinatra
I use my thick, horn-rimmed glasses
To focus my lips on stars' backstage passes
Siegfried and Roy, they sent me tigers from Sumatra
And I sang duets at the Savoy with my best friend Frank Sinatra
I snorkel with Charley the Tuna
Dior makes my drawers from vicuna
Julia Child makes for me potato latkes
Dubya Bush says my tusch looks just like Frank Sinatra's
I got fried with Humpty Dumpty
Shagged flies for Ham'rin' Hank
I do lunch with Snow White and Grumpy
And did I tell you, I knew Frank! - Jackson’s Johnson
Jackson’s johnson’s jonesin’!
Who's that bustin' that moonwalkin' piddle
While Louie Farrakhan diddles his fiddle?
Why, it's bleachboy Jacko, the King of Pop
Got a gaggle of little boys on his pillow top
Gettin' down 'n' funky
Sleepin' with his monkey
Got bleach? Got bleach? Got bleach?
Gonna take a little friend for a drive
That's why he's waxin' his Jackson Five
Gonna show his little friend the Jacko Jive
Get some traction on his Jackson Five
Jackson’s johnson’s jonesin’!
You can't beat it when Jacko smells a score
Even if he ain't got a nose anymore
It's a thriller when Jacko convenes
His bleached white johnson into Billie's jeans
Gettin' down 'n' funky
Sleepin' with his monkey
Got bleach? Got bleach? Got bleach?
Gonna take a little friend for a drive
That's why he's waxin' his Jackson five
Gonna show his little friend the Jacko Jive
Get some traction on his Jackson Five
He's shellacin' his Jackson Five
Whacko Jacko's maxin' out his Jackson Five!
Jackson’s johnson’s jonesin’! - Phobia
Had a gig in a bar
Could have been a big star
But I fainted and crushed my guitar
Guess I'll never be a Segovia
'Til I kick the phobia
I'm a cowardly lion
Afeared of flyin' and scared of dyin'
Too fear impaired to give life a go
Why am I so scared? I'm afraid I don't know
Why am I so scared? I'm afraid I don't know
Got a fear neurosis,
A scaredy-cat psychosis
Slug down pills by the mega-doses
Even did hypnosis to get a shrink's diagnosis
And this is it: I'm chickenshit!
I'm a cowardly lion
Afeared of flyin' and scared of dyin'
Too fear impaired to give life a go
Why am I so scared? I'm afraid I don't know
Why am I so scared? I'm afraid I don't know - The ‘Roids of Summer
Poem
In Boston it was Yaz; in St. Louis the Man was Stan in the glory days
Hank hammered 'em for the Braves and Clemente did it all
We cheered the Yankee Clipper; revered Mantle, Fox, and Mays
Man, in those days they played some ball!
Sandy Koufax was a bitchin' pitchin' machine—the best
And I seen Drysdale, Feller, Dizzy Dean and all the rest
Take weird Mark Fidrych—now that sonofabitch could pitch!
Remember how Satchel Paige became the ancient-age rage?
And what trembling batter could gauge the gas Bob Gibson throws?
And—you bet your ass—we had Pete Rose!
But, now, there's a new double play in town gettin' down with every fan
It's Tinker to Evers to the Steroid Man
Song
Soon some 'roided-up goon's gonna whap one to the dark side of the moon
He'll bash two hundred homers playin' greedy ball
And he'll bunt thirty more over the right field wall
Tell me, where can you find greedier cruds than Donnie Fehr and his horsehide bloods? Unless maybe George and his puppet Bud
George is pullin' Bud's Strings for World Series rings
Greed, greed, greed, greed, greed
Mo' money!
Greed, greed, greed, greed, greed
Mo' money!
Buy you some peanuts and Crackerjack—about fifty bucks that’ll set your butt back
And all the jocks'll tell you that "it ain't about the money, Jack"
While their hauling off the T-bills in a gunny sack!
Greed's oozing from the players' money glands
And like slopping hogs, they never get heir fill
Because the suckers in the stands—they all bitch but keep on payin' the bill
But the game's still got the glamour of the glory days:
The squeeze-play bunt, the triple plays
And for all the clamor that baseball's dead,
When the final balls and strikes are said,
In our hearts still live Clemente, Ruth, and Mays,
And a popsicle named Ted!
Greed, greed, greed, greed, greed
Mo' money!
Greed, greed, greed, greed, greed
Mo' money! - She Made Me Tea
I hate the bitch
From the annoying twitch of her nose
To the incessant cracking of her toes!
Do I want her back?
I'd just as soon as thrust a harpoon right thru her!
Screw her! You're welcome to her!
Did I say how she'd play with each morsel on her plate?
Every rest'rant I suggested she would hate
And how can you find your clothes
When your drawer overflows with her drawers and her pantyhose?
And that damn bathroom door she'd never close!
Still, I'll have to say in her way she cared about me
She cracked my back, she's got the knack; she made me tea
But when I was clever she never paid attention!
By the way, does she ever mention me?
Still, I'll have to say in her way she cared about me
She was a shrew, but when I got the flu, she made me tea
But what man could take her constant condescension?
By the way, does she ever make you tea? Or mention me?
She made me tea - Necrophiliac’s Lament
I've gone often to the coffin for love
My angels don't come from up above
In fact, I never, ever see 'em
'Til they debut at the mausoleum
I prayed “Grim Reaper, I must have her”
Then like magic, abracadaver,
He answered my netherworld psalm
With the shrouded belle of embalm
And my love is growing cold
She's growing fungus
She's growing mold
And her icy blue lips ooze gooey slime drips
Like a cheese that's too old
She's growing cold
When I dig her up for a date
She smells great, like a bucket of bait
And she never complains when I'm late
And she never lies, except in state
When that flesh rots off her bones,
The methane gasses jackpot my jones
Her putrefaction's my satisfaction
She's perkin' my gherkin with her fatal pheromones
And my love is growing cold
She's growing fungus
She's growing mold
And her icy blue lips ooze gooey slime drips
Like a cheese that's too old
She's growing cold
When ornithology's push becomes shove,
My lovebird's spelled "vulture" not "dove"
Of corpse, of corpse, of corpse,
Cold Mama, it’s you that I love! - Insider Trading
She never brokered a pork belly, too smelly
She deals in petroleum futures, the jelly
In many CEOs beds paparazzi spied her
And for that some SOBs deride her
But when you're talkin' NASDAQ, DOW, or S&P;
If the market's up or down or even flea,
She is the ultimate insider
All her customers are named John
They all pay cash, COD
Some she spanks; she whips a few,
And though most she'll only screw,
They never complain to the SEC
She sells to all of mankind: yellows, whites and blacks
It's always a bull market and she never pays no tax!
She sucks at customer service
She delivers without mail or trucks or track
And the moment that she sells it,
She''s got her inventory back
Insider trading, insider trading
She's got her inventory back - The Gimme-Gimme Shimmy
Old farts owe us German cars and caviars
They owe us Cuban cigars
They owe us gold bullion bars
And an open charge at Bloomingdale's
Just in case our blooming hedge fund fails
Boomer Volvos that caused the ozone skid
So why should us Xers pay for what you boomers did?
We're the GenXers, the world owes us a livin'
We love our 401-Ks, hate the world we live in
We'll sterilize the baby boomers; we'll strangle all the old farts
And shove their social security up their Medicare-draining hearts
We're doin' the gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme shimmy
We're doin' the gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme shimmy
Gimme!
Old farts caused the economy crash
With their guzzler Chevrolets
And their welfare trash
That's why they owe us Paris, Rome, and Madrid
And we know where you old farts got your bags of gold hid
So, to the rest home Mom's ass we'll cast away
Hey, someday her money'd be ours anyway!
We're the GenXers, the world owes us a livin'
We love our 401-Ks, hate the world we live in
We'll sterilize the baby boomers; we'll strangle all the old farts
And shove their social security up their Medicare-draining hearts
We're doin' the gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme shimmy
We're doin' the gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme shimmy
Gimme!
All 'Lawdy!' album selections are the copyrighted property of Steve Sonday and Fludgegruppet House Publishing