Friday Five

We are doing the Friday Five early this week, as June 6 is a date I set aside for a serious post.

My Internet twin Supergurl showed me last week this little contest is not nearly so easy as I had believed. But being a lazy and unimaginative cuss, I will continue for at least one more week. This week I have searched out the lyrics to some of the worst songs of the Seventies. These babies should fill you with nostalgia for polyester shirts and bell bottoms. These are the songs you heard on your transistor radio, and loved to hate. There is no disco, only pure pop of the sweetest, most saccharine kind. try not to puke on your keyboard enjoy:

1. Goodbye to you, my trusted friend.
We've known each other since we're nine or ten.
Together we climbed hills or trees.
Learned of love and ABC's,
skinned our hearts and skinned our knees.
Goodbye my friend, it's hard to die,
when all the birds are singing in the sky,
Now that the spring is in the air.
Pretty girls are everywhere.
When you see them I'll be there.

2. In the heat of a summer night
In the land of the dollar bill
When the town of Chicago died
And they talk about it still

When a man named Al Capone
Tried to make that town his own
And he called his gang to war
With the forces of the law

3. See the tree, how big it's grown
But friend, it hasn't been too long, it wasn't big
I laughed at her and she go mad
The first day that she planted it, was just a twig
Then the first snow came
And she ran up to brush the snow away so it wouldn't die
Came running in, all excited
Slipped and almost hurt herself and I laughed till I cried
She was always young at heart, kind of dumb and kind of smart
And I loved her so

4.Muskrat susie, muskrat sam
Do the jitterbug out in muskrat land
And they shimmy
And sammys so skinny

sorry, I have stop here and be sick...

5. I rode my bicycle past your window last night
I roller skated to your door at daylight
It almost seems like you're avoiding me
I'm okay alone, but you got something I need

bonus: Gonna find my baby, gonna hold her tight
gonna grab some afternoon delight.
My motto's always been; when it's right, it's right.
Why wait until the middle of a cold dark night.
When everything's a little clearer in the light of day.
And you know the night is always gonna be there any way.

That, my friends is the worst pop song ever recorded. I have set new hand speed records changing the station when that tripe hits the airwaves. You cannot beat the sentiment, but the song makes we want to shove ice picks in my ears -- dull ones. Every time I have heard that song is wasted minutes from my life I can never get back. Worse, it is the kind of horrid tune that easily becomes an earworm. I must turn on some real classic rock to burn the sound of that musical abortion from my brainpan.