Looking through an old thread I gleaned this gem. Subject: RE: Family sing-alongs From: rechal@earthlink.net Date: 14-Aug-97 - 01:12 PM To this day, our family has special songs for special days. For instance, my mother and my aunt have an ongoing battle to wake one another up on Thanksgiving morning with this little ditty, sung to the tune of Frère Jacques: Next Thanksgiving, next Thanksgiving, save your bread, save your bread. Shove it up the turkey, shove it up the turkey, eat the bird, eat the bird. See "The First Hard Sell" in the DT, a parody to the tune of "The First Noel" addresses the commercialization of our holidays By the time October comes, every store's lined with snares With Halowe'en, Christmas and Thanksgiving wares; What once were festivals that were simple and plain All have become mere excuses for capital gain cho: Hard sell, hard sell Hard sell, hard sell This is the Christmas we all know so well. And these two (in the DT) are so short I just had to add them: SOMEWHERE, OVERINDULGENCE Somewhere overindulgence is just fine In a land that I heard of once in a nursery rhyme. Somewhere overindulgence never ends And there's no need to worry on what tomorrow sends. Where lemon drops fall from the sky And ice cream clouds go floating by above me Where earth is made of chocolate cake And mud pies just taste really great Is where you'll find me... Somewhere overindulgence is just fine You can eat all you want to, no one will draw the line. @parody @food filename[ OVRNDLGE RG
RECIPE FOR HOT CIDER (tune: Ghost of Tom) (Lorraine Lee) Swirling snowflakes, winter wind Welcome wild November in. Ginger, nutmeg, cinamon, cloves, Simmer in the cider on the old wood stove. @round @seasonal @food filename[ HOTCIDER play.exe TOMGHOST RG and the chorus of "Mrs. Murphy's Chowder"(in the DT): Chorus Ice cream, cold cream, benzene, gasoline, soup-beans, string beans, floating all around Sponge cake, beefsteak, mistake, stomach ache, creampuffs, earmuffs, many to be found Silk hats, doormats, bed slats, democrats, coco bells, doorbells, beckon you to dine Meatballs, fish balls, mothballs, cannonballs, come on in, the chowder's fine Let's not forget "Thanks"giving (in the DT) "Come Fill Up Your Glasses" Our thanks too the fishermen and safe may they toil, And also to the farmer who turns up the soil; To the ploughmen and shepherds and all men of worth, Whose joy is to harvest the fruits of the earth. bon apetit judy
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