Hi all, I have to say I have a very healthy respect for parodies and use a few of them including some of the marvellous Crawford Howard's in gigs. They rarely failed.
I also find them useful for practice work in that I believe that song writing – like just about everything else in life – comes easier the more often you do it. I would often write parodies to try to keep up to speed at those times when no obvious subject for a song presents itself.
I offer this as an example and in tribute to all those young men who went in search of fast women in slow cars. For the sake of the mechanically challenged, a pair of nylon stockings or tights could serve as an emergency fan belt if all else failed. Suggestions would be welcomed.
Country Roads
Nineteen Sixties, Morris Minor No brake, no lights no steering and divil the sign of a wiper. Engine on its' deathbed, gearbox grinds and groans And the heater, horn and handbrake is known to God alone.
How I hate these Country Roads Broke down again on my way home. My brakes are stickin', lovelorn and stricken Oh how I hate these country roads.
Tyres as bald as eggshells, doors let in the rain And a red light says the battery isn't charging up again. Smoke pours from the dashboard, sparks fall on your knees While around your arse and ankles howls a bleak Antarctic breeze.
Oh how I hate these Country Roads, walked every inch trying to get home. No hydraulic fluid means my love life's ruined Oh how I hate these Country Roads.
I hear a whining coming from a back wheel bearing Before the engine stops it gives a loud asthmatic moan. Again I learn for certain I'd be wise to do my courting: Nearer home, or on the phone.
A broken fan belt parted me and darlin' Mary She jived like Ginger Rogers and she waltzed light as a fairy. Sad was the night we parted in the Mother of All Fights When I said: "I'll drive you home love if you'll just whip off your tights"
And a tank of dirty petrol, stalled me and young Rebecca Burnt out my carburettor, now I rue the day I met her. And little Annie Murphy, she left me sad and blue With my valves in need of grinding, heart and half shaft broke in two.
Oh how I hate these Country Roads Walked every inch, all on my own. Me points are welded – me love life's ended How I hate these Country Roads.
It's far from heaven, broke down outside Virginia With an angry Cavan Father and the whole damn world 'agin you. And the wisdom slowly dawning, If I'm hopin' to go far It's either join the priesthood, or get a better car.
Oh how I hate these Country Roads Soaked to the skin, chilled to the bone. A damn ignition shot down my mission Oh how I hate these Country Roads. A cracked distributor means I'll never livewither. Oh how I hate these Country roads.