Here's a minor character that never made it into any folk song. That's why I wrote one for the Shopping Cart Wrangler.

For the click challenged here are the lyrics with complete intro.

Written to the tune of "Ghost Riders In The Sky" I didn't know if this song was technically a parody, or just insanity. You choose. It does, however, fill an important void in today's fast paced, sound and video bite oriented culture. This brief saga tells about a real, honest to goodness, folk hero who proudly steps forth from the canvas of modern America to be counted. It is just one of the stories about untold numbers of Americans who relentlessly toil away their lives at thankless, low paying jobs.


Shopping Cart Wrangler
Reggie Miles © 2004


In this day and age of modern conveniences like the World Wide Web we've got an awful lot of wonderful things. Now don't we? Resourcinatin' resusitators, resusitatin' resoucinators, fuel injected hubcaps…. But one thing you won't find, not roamin' the byways of that inflammation stupid highway, and not even on Ebay, are folk heroes. Many people say all the folk heroes are dead and gone.

But I say no, no way, uh-uh, shut-up, don't go there people friends. Cuz if there ever was a time when we needed folk heroes, it's today. With the state of the world as it is and rising tensions. We need heroes look up to. Like the straight shootin', hard ridin', singin' heroes of yore, who laughed in the face of death, sneered at doom and chuckled at catastrophe.

No, folk heroes aren't as plentiful as they once were, but they're still out there. You've just got to know where to look for 'em. And no, you ain't a gonna find 'em roamin' the wide open prairies of yesteryear. Cuz friends, they've all been fenced off. But there is still one prairie out there today where you can find 'em ridin' herd. It stretches out just as far as the eye can see. I'm talkin' about that vast asphalt prairie that surrounds Megalo mart malls and shopping centers all across this great land of ours. This song is dedicated to one of the last great American folk heroes, and if you listen, real close, you can hear it echoin' through those prefabricated concrete canyons of today's post-industrial answer to yesterday's general store.


I'm up at dawn, and work all day till the wee hours of the night.
My polyester uniform, it just don't fit me right.
And they don't allow me to take tips for the service I provide.
I work for minimum wage, with poverty by my side.

Yippee-yi-yah! yippee-yi-oh-oh-oh-oh! I'm a shopping cart wrangler, 16 years old.

In the drivin' rain or the blazin' sun or the freezin' ice and snow,
When the boss says, "Go and get them strays." It's out the door I go.
I round 'em up and corral them with all the rest inside.
I'm a shopping cart wrangler, I've got my price gun by my side.

Yippee-yi-yah! yippee-yi-oh-oh-oh-oh! I'm a shopping cart wrangler, is my cry!

Dodgin' trucks and automobiles over huge speed bumps and curbs.
And SUVs full of groceries, on their way back to the burbs.
Through potholes the size of Texas and puddles as big as lakes,
I drive my clatterin' herd homeward.
Then I take a coffee break.

Yippee-yi-yah! yippee-yi-oh-oh-oh-oh! I'm a shopping cart wrangler, till I die.

Heeya! Get along little shopping carts! Hey you, in the SUV, move it or lose buster! Oh yeah!? Same to you mister! Yeeha! Outta my way people! I've got shopping carts to wrangle! Yeeha!


Here's another about a character that I researched here. I was hoping to find a an entire list of songs about this guy, but only found him as a minor character in folk songs. So, once again, I put fingers (all two) to keyboard. I used elements from my research to paint a proper picture for my song about The Devil

For the click challenged, hear are the lyrics.

The Devil
Reggie Miles © 2004


He's known as Satan, Gozer, Beelzebub,
Old Scratch and Shiva he's been dubbed.
Any of the above will do.
Just call his name and he will come to you.

So, from the darkest depths inside my soul,
I called up the devil way down below,
And the demon screamed a fearsome growl,
So I set him loose just to hear him howl.

He said, "Son, I've met your kind before.
You're always knockin' on my door.
Hopin' you'll find in my pit of fire,
Somethin' to fulfill your every desire.

And I've always been there with open arms,
Willing to share my many charms,
Wanting to satisfy all your needs,
Your deepest hunger or vilest greed.

I'm experienced and have the skill,
To grant your every wish at will.
Just name your poison. What'll it be?
Fame, power, wealth, or all three?

Or do you want eternal life,
An end to war, or pain, and strife?
Youth, and health, or endless bliss,
I can give you all of this.

It's an easy enough thing to do.
Soon all your worries will be through.
Come on down with me to my fiery crib.
Don't forget to pack your asbestos bib.

Cuz glutony's no sin to me.
Will that be, Southern deep-fried, or extra crispy?
Charbroiled, or barbecued with plenty of fat,
Wanna try my guilt free hot sauce with that?

Pills, I've got plenty, to cure all your ills,
Uppers and downers for all of your thrills,
Drink, enough to quench any thirst,
Gamblin' and lust, I've got the best of the worst.

Have you made up your mind, or, shall I tell you more?
You'll have a great time! There are parties galore!
Every hate, crime, and fear
We've got it all, wall to wall, right here!

You've but to ask, no need to yearn.
I'll need just one thing in return.
To remove your name from heaven's roll,
You'll need to pledge to me your soul.

There's no need to worry your pretty head,
With pointless thoughts of doubt, or dread
Just sign along the dotted line,
And everything will all be fine.

Yes, I was there in the garden with Adam and Eve
I opened her eyes and made her believe
And I'll make a believer out of you too
Just call my name and I'll come to you

Just call my name and I will come to you

Just call my name

How will you know me? Okay, let's see.
I've got a sort of overly sunburned complexion.
I'm talkin' beet red, no, even more than George Hamilton.
I'll be wearing a red suit.
I've got pitch black hair, a small gotee, a thin mustache, and a receding hairline with a couple of hor… er, bumps, I mean, protrusions.
Okay, they're horns.
I've got cloven hooves too, and a longish tail that's kind of pointy on the end.
Oh, and I'll be carrying a pitchfork.
And just in case, why don't you jot down my toll free hot line number?
It's area code, 666,666-6666, and that's good 24/7 so don't hesitate to give me a buzz."