1.      Moss's Rubber Duckie

 

Some are lucky,

Yes, indeed—

Soar at supersonic speed.

Some are lucky

To float in an old balloon.

 

Some are lucky

L.B. Mayers—

Cecil B. DeMille-ionaires.

Some are lucky,

If they're cast in a short cartoon.

 

You're a dope, if you

Ever hope to be

Ha-appy;

Perhaps you've

Just forgotten that

Life is rotten and

Cra-appy.

Listen to Pappy:

 

Some are lucky,

Boy, oh boy!

Spend their winters in St. Croix.

Some are lucky

To spend 'em in Saska-

(Just be thankful it isn't Alaska!),

Some are lucky

To spend 'em in Saskatoon.

 

 

2.      Jolson's Avalon

 

The topless tow'rs of Camelot

Are moss-grown stubs;

The fabled arms of Camelot

Adorn men's clubs;

The drawbridge into Camelot

Has gone to pot—

And that's why people swam a lot

In Camelot.

 

 

3.      Styne's Just in Time

 

Rust 'n' lime—

Your pipes have crusted grime;

Some sort of fetid slime

Impedes the flow.

 

Valves are stuck;

Your drains are filled with muck—

So it's a stroke of luck

You called a pro!

 

Now I'm here,

And with my trusty roto-rooter

I'll soon have it clear—

Be on my way;

 

And I won't charge a dime,

'Cause it's the seventh time,

And so it seemed a crime

To make you pay!

 

 

4.      Van Heusen's Personality

 

Before the Shah crapped out—

When he had all his clout—

He sat and sneered at the folks in D.C.,

Supported by his awesome

Persianality.

 

And when Khomeini scored

With the Islamic Horde,

How did he greet the Great Satan's decree?

He turned around and showed his

Persianality.

 

And what if Persian bombs

Should proliferate?

What would imams

Vociferate,

When Uncle Sam says, J'accuse!?

You know.

 

So let's concoct a plan

To overrun Iran

And hold elections that truly are free—

They'll tell us all to kiss their

Persianality.

 

 

5.      Muir's Waitin' for the Robert E. Lee

 

It seemed like a pity

To dip in the kitty,

But Sex and the City

Was raunchy and witty;

So I broke down,

Rang up my cable guy—

Made a decision

To pay for my television:

 

"When can you get here

To hook up my set here?

I'm startin' to fret here—

Break into a sweat here,

'Cause I won't wait

One minute more to see

The glories of cable TV."

 

That was April the 1st—

Tuesday, April the 1st.

Then came the 3rd,

4th,

5th,

6th.

He promised the 7th,

And then the 11th.

 

It's the 24th of July—

Still no sign of the guy.

How I berate

Fate,

Waitin' like a moron,

Waitin' for my cable TV.

 

At last he was able

To hook up my cable.

(I now have a gable

That's slightly unstable;

But with broadband,

Why should it worry me?

Home renovation

Is always in syndication.)

 

Clickin' my clicker,

The images flicker;

But here is the kicker:

I'm suddenly sicker

Than a drowned rat

Caught in a torrent of

Commercials on cable TV.

 

Crikey!  Look at those ads!

What's with all of those ads?

They're pushin' soap,

Trucks,

Scope,

Lux;

The cellular 'phone ads

Are bustin' my gonads.

 

Couldn't someone tell me who knows:

Where in hell are my shows?!

It's such a sick

Shtick,

Clickin' till I'm frickin'

Sick 'n' tired of cable TV.

 

So here is a breakdown:

The guy was a crook;

He gave me the shakedown,

And, boy! was I shook.

I'm fixin' to take down

And read a good book

And disable

This cable

TV.

 

 

6.      Willson's Seventy-Six Trombones

 

Seventy-Six Trombones needs a parody.

I haven't a goddam clue what to write.

 

 

7.      Ahlert's and Turk's Mean to Me

 

Well, good for you!

You're eating what's good for you;

Glue, sawdust and wood for you—

Commonly known as "muesli."

Eat it all up!

 

Shredded steel

Might offer more mouth-appeal;

Gosh, what a dis-gusting meal

(Using the "M" word loosely).

 

When Nature calls us

To swallow this Dreck,

Then peristalsis

Becomes a big pain in the neck.

Heck!

 

How can you

Sit calmly and eat that goo?

You wouldn't, if you but knew

What was good for you.

 

 

8.      Davis's and Akst's Baby Face

 

Bobby Short

Is more congenial than Voldemort

And more amusing than a day in court

Talking tort;

 

His one live piano's

More fun than five Sopranos.

 

Where's the sport

Who could be qualified to hold the Carlyle fort,

Till we ascend the stars

To hit the Bar of Bars

And once again hear Bobby Short?

 

 

9.      Wrubel's The Lady in Red

 

Oh! the Lady Macbeth!

There's no one as crazy

As the Lady Macbeth:

Mad as a hatter,

She'll splatter blood on your upholstery.

 

Oh! the Lady Macbeth!

The John Cam'ron Swayze

Of the Culture of Death.

Mother of Mary!

It's scary, when you know the whole story.

 

She keeps on tickin'

The names of all of her prey

Off, one corpse at a time,

She takes a lickin',

But never scours away

The one damned spot that points to her crime.

 

Oh! the Lady Macbeth

Is never so lazy

As to pause for a breath;

Constantly killing,

And spilling blood on the upholstery.

And that's the whole story!

 

 

10.      Morse's M-O-T-H-E-R

 

M is for her major-league maracas;

O is for her oversized bazoom;

T is her titanic titicacas;

H is how her headlights flood the room.

E is extra-ordinary fun bags;

R is rack—this chick is not a sylph.

Put them all together, they spell "Mother"

(By "Mother," I, of course, mean MILF).

 

M is for her monumental mamm'ries;

O is for her overstuffed brassiere;

T is tits, like two Toyota Camrys;

H is hefty hooters—here and here.

E is elephantine Bristol Cities;

R is for Raquels—she's quite a grilf.

Put them all together, they spell "Mother"

(And, yes, my friends, I still mean MILF).

 

 

11.  Rodgers's With a Song in My Heart

 

With a song full of spleen

And a passive-aggressive approach—

Partly caused by caffeine

And a lifetime of flying in coach—

I express my views

(Like anyone cares!)

On news

And affairs

Of state.  There's

Not a lot I can say

In defense of my corn-on-the-cob—

It's pathetic, but hey,