1. Porter's Begin the Beguine
Irving
Berlin was “Baline,”
Till somebody’s typographical error.
But did Irving gripe? Or tremble in terror?
Or write to The Times? Or erupt in spleen?
He said, “When in Rome, go with the flow,”
And then he went home and started composing;
And, when he was done, signed it, in closing,
Irving Berlin—not Baline.
The fortunes of war reward the deserving,
Especially when something’s at stake.
A misspelled name we might have found unnerving;
Berlin was unswerving—Irving was jake.
The moral’s as clear as aquamarine:
When someone drives up in a hearse, make certain you’re busy,
And don't make a snag any worse by having a tizzy
Or causing one hell of a scene.
Is it Irving Berlin–or Baline?
Is his handle the former name, or still the latter?
If his music remains the same, then what does it matter
Whether Berlin is Baline?
By becoming Berlin, this Baline showed the way:
Always dare to drink deep, and scorn delirium tremens.
So if Life, some delightful morn, offers you lemons,
Simply make lemonade—and mix it with gin;
Make a Berlin from Baline.
Make like Berlin-slash-Baline!
2. MacDermot's Good Morning, Starshine
Good goin’, Starbucks—
But have you no shame?
No coffee to speak of,
Except in your name.
Good golly, Starbucks!
I need my caffeine.
Your coffee's got everything—
Except the freakin' coffee bean.
Jelly
bean java,
Praline
cappuccino,
With
caramel swirl;
Gingerbread
jamocha,
Jujube
Jamaican,
Fit
for a girl;
Coco-macchiato,
Macaroon
espresso—
Screwin'
up a cup o' joe.
Good gravy, Starbucks!
You call that a cup?
A modest proposal:
Try fillin' one up.
Good riddance, Starbucks!
You’re out of my life.
I wouldn’t buy what you sling
To please a dyin' trophy wife.
"Tiny
tot" grande,
Teeny-weeny
venti,
With
plenty of foam;
Lilliputian
leche,
Miniature
dolce—
Top
up the foam!
Microscopic
mocha,
Milliliter
latte—
Screwin'
up a cup o' joe.
Coughin’ up jack,
Collarin’ joe
Just to pour down the john;
Coughin’ up jack,
Collarin’ joe
To pour down the john;
Cough up ja-ack,
Collar jo-oe—
Somethin' in this pic-
Ture’s just plain wrong.
Somethin' in this pic-
Ture’s just plain wrong.
3. Duke's I Can't Get Started With You
My friends and
neighbors say that I’m thick;
I’m just about as dumb as a brick;
I voted twice for Carter—
But
still I’m smarter than you.
I bought a block of Enron at par;
I think the Yugo’s quite a good car;
And,
though I hunt with Cheney,
I’m still more brainy than you.
Your IQ’s low—
I’ve made a
graph of it.
Slow?
You’re Chief of Staff of it.
No,
That ain’t the half of it—
You just don’t
have a clue.
I looked at Love and gave it a try;
I thought Romance was easy as pie,
I put my faith in Cupid—
Yet
I’m not as stupid as you.
4. McCoy's Why Don't You Do Right (a fragment)
He hunts for Osama,
and be-
Fore he's through,
He takes down a lawyer with a
.22:
He's Dudley Do-Right.
Also, Mr. Magoo.
5. Warren's On the Atchison, Topeka and the Santa Fe
When Al Qaeda
bombs the Pentagon,
Celebrities will
organize a telethon—
But September
12th, they'll be on their way
Back to Aspen
and Tahiti—and to St. Tropez.
When the market
outlook’s none too good,
There’s
cheery camaraderie in Hollywood,
Just as long
as things will be A-OK
Back in Aspen
and Tahiti—and in St. Tropez.
Holy crumbs!
When the movie
crew laments, "Boo-hoo"—
Hey, Jim! You bet the game is rigged.
Cock-a-doodle-doo! I never knew.
So stars are
good at showing off—
Well, I'll be
jigged!
When Katrina
wipes out New Orleans,
The movie stars‘ll
rally ‘round with pork-and-beans;
But they hoard
foie gras and crème brûlée
Back in Aspen
and Tahiti—
Far away from
all graffiti—
Back in Aspen
and Tahiti—and in St. Tropez.
6. Gershwin's Strike Up the Band!
Every cross-town bus . . .
Is a rattle-trap.. . .
Take a tip from us: . . .
Hike up the fare!
Every subway train
Has a pile of crap—
And an unknown stain.
Hike up the fare!
See the mud and the crud and the blood;
See the grime and the slime and the crime;
Here a rat up 'n' shat; and is that—
Pubic hair?!
If it is—well, hey!
We’re the MTA!
We simply hike up the fare!
7. Cohan's Harrigan
D-A-double-N-Y—
Danny's on St. Paddy's Day.
What a grand occasion to be merry—
Whether you're County Cork or County Kerry.
D-A-double-N-Y—
That's the place to be.
Eat a lot; drink a shot;
Sing a song (thanks to Jerry Scott)—
Celebrate with me!
8. Bart's Who Will Buy?
Who must file? It isn't Bugs Bunny,
Gomer Pyle, or Mr. Magoo.
Shout
"Siegheil!" and cough up the money,
So Uncle Sam can spy on you.
That's
how we wage the War on Terror,
And that's how we will win—
So make it
payable to "bearer"
And mail that paycheck in!
Up the Nile and down the Euphrates,
Muslim guile is cramping our style.
Let's revile the 1780's!
The Constitution's through—it simply wouldn't do.
The only law is—who must file?
* * * *
We've got to break that Evil Axis
By planting bugs at home,
So blame Verizon for your taxes
(They soak us, when we roam).
Does it rile—the snooping
and prying?
Try to smile—you'll miss by a mile.
All the
while, your freedom is dying.
It's tragic, but it's true: the Feds are out to screw
The poor schlimazels who must file.
