Do Nothing Till You Hear From Me

Do nothing till I find the key*
Hey, those are bushes, not your bed
Why that driver didn't wait, with the tip I gave
Is over my head
Do nothing till I find the key
At least let me check my pants
If your mother sees you flipping the bird at passing cars
I haven't a chance

True, we've been seen by your nosy neighbor
Across the street, peeking under the shade
He'll take a bribe or I'll skin him alive
Camille, that's how I feel about you

Don't hit me with your purse, dear
And button your sweater there's a chill
Then please do nothing till I find the key
Probably never will

copyright©2006 michael james prue


* A parody of Duke Ellington's Do Nothing Till You Hear From Me

Do nothing till you hear from me
Pay no attention to what's said
Why people tear the seam of anyone's dream
Is over my head...

Mr. Inappropriate

Call him Mr. Inappropriate
He'll say the right word at the wrong time
Mr. Inappropriate
His aptitude for faux is truly sublime

What he says will seldom fit
It just don't seem to belong
Though he tries and tries he must admit
What he says when he says it is wrong

Call him Mr. Inappropriate
His capacity for one thing is incredibly strong
Some folks wear a little monkey on their backs
But he carries around King Kong

What he says or does is ever out of place
It runs against the grain
And suddenly upon your face
Will come a look of pain

When he opens his mouth to speak his mind
How it grates upon your nerves
Guess a guy who don't know what or when or how
Gonna get what he deserves

copyright©2008 michael james prue

Didn't I?

Why do you say I’m lazy when I ain’t?
Didn’t I play songs for you as I watched you paint
Every single wall last fall?

And didn’t I make sure you never missed a spot?
And that when you fell it was just floor you caught
‘Cause I was there to move that paint can?

What a laugh that you could call me selfish
Hey, isn’t it kind to remind you as I do
To put those safety glasses on
Before you mow the lawn? And who

Always makes sure you rake and haul the grass
All the grass before the rain?
Did any other him ever really care
About those spots which form upon the silverware
And every dinner glass dim yet plain?

So after you mow dear and set the table so dear
Remember I’ll be the one to notice every stain
But darling as you push that ‘traption along
Drownin out my happy song
Should I seem to grow tearful * * * honey, please be kereful
Try not to run that mower * * blades set high or lower
O’er* * * these po- er * */ * * * * / * * * toes again

copyright©2007 michael james prue

links

Visit my other new blogs, most with

lyrics in a musical genre suggested or

specified by the name

http://pulp-dreams.blogspot.com/

http://rocknrollnboogie.blogspot.com/

http://covenspell.blogspot.com/ (gothic)

http://newclassicpopballads.blogspot.com/

http://shadesuvblue.blogspot.com/

http://countrynfolk.blogspot.com/

http://prosebriefs.blogspot.com/

http://poemsbym.blogspot.com/

http://musicatrivia.blogspot.com/

and http://booksyoudread.blogspot.com/

___________________________

Or for a different shake on the same watusi

check out my blogs at
http://mikejammes.wordpress.com/

and http://shadowshift.wordpress.com

IT

You gotta have "IT" to make it today
Specially long the coast of Californ-I-A
And much more "IT"
to fly in Hollywood LA
Where your "IT" and your torso are much more so on display

So remember this dear Sir or Madam
Unless you're Svengali or Roger Vadim
You gotta have "IT"
And not just a little bit
For without enough
You'll be stuck in the middle
While high on the very top sit

Those who have "IT" a lot
They're a hit a lot
But good luck with your little bit…It

Don't seem fair that just to make a lotta noise
In Celluloid city today
You can’t be a plain Jane ’r just one of the boys
Anonimity just ain’t gonna play
For unless your name is Brad, Tom, Jessica or Angeline
Today its nearly impossible to make the scene
No matter how sleek or just to die for
Or how right on cue you cry, for
If you can't grab hold of a crowd
And really shake “IT” up
Pretty soon the goons'll
Pop your balloon you'll
Go home and crawl up in a ball…unless

You’ve got "IT" then you'll make it to the top
and if you have "IT" the applause will never stop
You can be the lousiest lowlife around
But that "IT" will never let you down
In tinsel town
You'll always wear a crown
Because you've got "IT"

copyright©2008 michael james prue

Flyboys and Sailors

Those boys she knew before were all such a silly bore
It seemed fixed to kill her you see
Till she heard ‘bout the fly boys
Those never say die boys and their heavy artillery

Since then she’s been thrivin on the bars and the dives in
And around Air Naval Reserves
Knowing each night her next fly boy’ll sight her
And give her the fly by she deserves

There’ll be no defense for the missile attacks
That drill her flanks, although
They’ll be less intense than the bivouacs
That thrill her head to toe

But little sis fails her cause it takes a sailor
To make Suzie cruise off-line
Creeps who after the liberties take off for the seven seas
Leavin Miss Roundheels behind

Some call it disgrace downright low, mean and base
To see iniquity so well defined
Give me a man she’ll say lifts anchor and sails away
Snubbing the landlubbing kind

Others can’t nail her down nor entail her
Evenings to wine and dine
She’d sooner a sailor than a kinder and cuter
Cause mainly sailors suit her just fine

Most would lose face virtue lost at the pace
She takes ‘em in and sends ‘em out shined
Give me a man she’ll say rises above the fray
Leavin all the rest behind

That’s why she’s streams of hot steamy dreams of
Sailors who’ll straighten her spine
They’ll never fail to quickly avail her
Then sail right on out of her mind

While big sis don’t know why boys
Can’t be all like the fly boys
The rest all seem just a tease
Cause having flown fly boys
Nine miles high
None but a fly boy can please

copyright©2008 michael james prue