When my son Ted (now 50) was a baby, I could virtually ALWAYS
stop him from crying by singing a cowboy song I called
Goin' To The Party. MAGIC! And no other song would do it,
and no others who tried singing it could work the magic.

The song went thisaway:

GOIN' TO THE PARTY

We're goin' to the party, dontcha wanna come along?
Goin' to the party, dontcha wanna come along?
Goin' to the party, dontcha wanna come along?
We'll dance till the break of day!

Over the river and through the woods,
We'll waltz 'em like a pigeon
We'll make 'em dance the weevily wheat
And scatter their religion!

Oh, rare back chicken and crow for day
Rare back chicken and crow for day
Rare back chicken and crow for day
Oh ladies, fare thee well!

The higher up the cherry tree
The riper grow the cherries!
The more you hug and kiss the girls,
The quicker they will marry!

Oh, goin' to the party, dontcha wanna come along?
Goin' to the party, dontcha wanna come along?
Goin' to the party, dontcha wanna come along?
We'll dance till the break of day!

I THINK that's all there was to it.

But it was magic if Ted was crying. No idea why.

Dave Oesterreich