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Lyr Add: Songs by 'Yogi Yorgesson' (Harry Stewart)

Jim Dixon 01 Jul 11 - 03:11 PM
Jim Dixon 01 Jul 11 - 03:13 PM
Jim Dixon 01 Jul 11 - 03:16 PM
Jim Dixon 01 Jul 11 - 03:20 PM
Jim Dixon 01 Jul 11 - 03:22 PM
Jim Dixon 01 Jul 11 - 03:24 PM
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GUEST 26 Jul 11 - 09:49 PM
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Subject: Lyr Add: THE CHRISTMAS PARTY (Yogi Yorgesson)
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 01 Jul 11 - 03:11 PM

YouTube has 2 versions, by Yogi Yorgesson and Stan Boreson. Here's my transcription of the former:


THE CHRISTMAS PARTY
As sung by "Yogi Yorgesson" (Harry Stewart)

1. Down at the fact'ry where I work,
At ev'ry Christmas party we all go berserk.
At the Christmas parties, they serve free beer,
And I'm still in the doghouse from the one last year.

2. Running the switchboard is old Miss Lee.
All through the year this old maid she ain't nice to me,
But at the parties, her eyes just snap,
And I don't dare sit down 'cause she climbs on my lap.

3. Our boss is Ole Bergerson.
All year long this old guy he don't have no fun,
But at the parties he has a ball
Chasing secretaries up and down the hall.

4. We got a salesman who sings so loud,
You hear his voice above the shouting of the crowd.
He sings so loud at what he's pointed toward,
He blows potato chips right off the smorgasbord.

SPOKEN: The boss starts the party off with a speech on goodwill. He says he loves us, ja, we are his pals,
And when he's through talking, he shows what he means by trying to kiss all the gals.
The men are all laughing and pouring out beer. I know some of these guys are delighted,
'Cause Christmas parties are just for the help, and the wives are never invited.
Then we exchange silly presents, and the fat guys get girdles. They put them on and dance around and wiggle,
And when some of the girls open their presents, they scream, and their faces get red and they giggle.
Old Miss Lee who always jumps on my lap, she keeps following me around,
And sometimes she tries to sit on my lap and I ain't even sitting down.
Mister Hanson the salesman, he never stops singing. All evening his loud voice is blaring.
He stands by the smorgasbord shouting "Silent Night" with his mouth full of pickled herring.
The boss chases Miss Swenson around the water cooler. She's the one we call Jane Russell for short.
All the fellas hope the boss don't ever catch her, 'cause watching her run is great sport.
I always start to go home around midnight, but I never get home until four.
The little woman comes out on the porch to meet me. Holy Moses, is Dreamboat sore!
She whoops and hollers about the lipstick on my face, and I always feel like a dime,
But I never miss the Christmas party at the office 'cause we sure have a dandy good time.

5. Now this year if you plan to celebrate,
Be careful of that lipstick and don't get home late,
And while your gang is having fun,
I'd like to just say merry Christmas ev'ryone!


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Subject: Lyr Add: YINGLE BELLS (Yogi Yorgesson)
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 01 Jul 11 - 03:13 PM

Here's my transcription from YouTube:


YINGLE BELLS, YINGLE BELLS
As sung by "Yogi Yorgesson" (Harry Stewart)
Tune: JINGLE BELLS

1. My wife says to me, "Let's not drive the old coupé.
Hitch up once again the one-horse open sleigh."
The horse was awful mad. If he could talk he'd say:
"You'll be sorry you hitched me to a one-horse open sleigh."

Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingling all the way!
It ain't what like it used to be in a one-horse open sleigh.
Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingling all the way!
I should have wore long underwear in that one-horse open sleigh.

2. Dashing through the snow with the cold wind in our face,
I can't hold the horse. He thinks he's in a race.
He kicks snow on us. It hits us on the chest.
I bet that we're the coldest Swedes in the whole darn Middle West.

Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingling all the way!
My wife sure hates sleigh bells since she rode that one-horse sleigh.
Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingling all the way!
We're too old for riding in a one-horse open sleigh.

3. Night is awful dark; I can't see beyond my nose.
I can't blink my eyes; my eyeballs must be froze.
I can't hear my wife yell; I can't see her face.
I guess I must have lost her when I turned at Johnson's place.

Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingling all the way!
I nearly caught pneumonia in that one-horse open sleigh.
Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingling all the way!
I wouldn't make brass monkeys ride in a one-horse open sleigh.


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Subject: Lyr Add: I YUST GO NUTS AT CHRISTMAS (Y Yorgesson)
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 01 Jul 11 - 03:16 PM

YouTube has 2 versions, by Yogi Yorgesson (Harry Stewart) and Stan Boreson and Doug Setterberg. Here's my transcription of the former.


I YUST GO NUTS AT CHRISTMAS
As sung by Yogi Yorgesson (Harry Stewart)

1. Oh, I just go nuts at Christmas
On that jolly holiday.
I'll go in the red like a knucklehead
'Cause I'll squander all my pay.

2. Oh, I just go nuts at Christmas.
Shopping sure drives me berserk.
On the day before, I'll rush in a store
Like a poor bewildered jerk.

BRIDGE: I'll look at nightgowns for my wife,
Those black ones trimmed in red,
But I won't know her size and so
She'll get a carpet sweeper instead.

3. Oh, I just go nuts at Christmas
When each kid hangs up his sock.
It's a time for kids to flip their lids
While their papa goes in hock.

SPOKEN: On the night before Christmas, it's still in the house.
My family is sleeping, so I'm quiet like a mouse.
I look at my watch and midnight is near.
I think I'll sneak out for a cold glass of beer.
Down at the corner the crowd is so merry,
I end up by drinking about twelve Tom and Jerry.
I get to bed late and, gee whiz, how I'm sleeping,
When onto my bed those darn kids they come leaping.
They sit on my face and they jump on my belly,
And I'm quivering all over like a bowl full of jelly.
They scream, "Merry Christmas!" and my poor wife and me
We stumble downstairs and she lights up the tree.
My head is exploding; my mouth tastes like a pickle.
I step on a skate and fall on a tricycle.
Just before Christmas dinner, I relax, to a point,
Then relatives start swarming all over the joint.
On Christmas I hug and I kiss my wife's mother.
The rest of the year we don't speak to each other.
After dinner my aunt and my wife's uncle Louie
Get into an argument; they're both awful screwy.
Then all my wife's family say Louie is right,
And my goofy relations they join in the fight.
Back in the corner the radio is playing,
And over the racket, Gabriel Heatter is saying,
"Peace on earth, everybody, and good will toward men,"
And just at that moment someone slugs Uncle Ben.
They all run outside whooping so the neighbors will hear.
Oh, I'm so glad merry Christmas comes just once a year.

4. Oh, I just go nuts at Christmas,
But I still have lots of fun.
Just the same as you, I enjoy it too.
Merry Christmas, everyone!


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Subject: Lyr Add: I WAS SANTA CLAUS AT THE SCHOOL HOUSE
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 01 Jul 11 - 03:20 PM

YouTube has 2 versions, by Yogi Yorgesson and Stan Boreson. Here's my transcription from the former:


I WAS SANTA CLAUS AT THE SCHOOL HOUSE (FOR THE P.T.A.)
As sung by Yogi Yorgesson (Harry Stewart)

CHORUS: The P.T.A., the P.T.A.,
I was Santy Claus at the schoolhouse for the P.T.A.

1. The parent-teachers group they called a meeting.
My wife she says, "You have to go, my dear.
It's the big important Christmas party meeting
When all the papas who ain't sick appear."

2. I dozed off till the middle of the meeting,
When the chairman shouted out so all could hear:
"Mrs. Yorgesson says that her jolly husband
He will gladly be our Santy Claus this year."

3. The other papas looked relieved and happy.
They knew I'd been betrayed by my sweet wife,
And I was weak like that strong feller Swanson
When Delilah cut his hair off with a knife.

CHORUS

SPOKEN: On the night of the party, I sneaked into the school.
    The committee they all met me there.
These giggling women were going to dress me
    and glue on my whiskers and hair.
I got into them big red pants and black boots.
    The jacket was seven feet wide,
When I got into it, there was still plenty room
    for one good-size reindeer to hide.
Then I walked into the school gymnasium.
    The plan was that each little tyke
Would walk up and shake hands with old Santy,
    and tell me what presents they like.
The first kid was little Dagmar Larson,
    who wanted a new kiddy car.
She patted my face with her fat little hand,
    which was half full of warm chocolate bar.
The next kid in line was the young Scarbo boy.
    I think that his first name is Milo.
He's the orneriest brat in the whole darn school,
    and he's built just like a brick silo.
"Last year," he says, "you promised
    to bring me a real sharp sword and a gun,
And all that you brought was new shoes and a coat,
    you dirty old son-of-a-gun."
Then he jabbed his finger right in my eye,
    and I let out a heck of a groan,
And when he kicked my shin with his brass-toed shoe,
    I was sure that he'd broken the bone.
Then old man Guttormson picked his granddaughter up
    and when he put her down on my lap,
His lighted cigar set my whiskers on fire.
    They started to crackle and snap.
I jumped up and made a run for the door
    as fast as my sore leg would go,
And I put out the fire in a snow bank
    and cooled off my face in the snow.
I didn't dare go back, so I hurried on home
    and closed my front door with a slam,
And in my own home, my dog bit me twice,
    before he figured out who I am.
But the kids all had a nice Christmas,
    and in spite of what happened, I'll still say,
I'd be Santy Claus again next Christmas,
    for the good old P.T.A.

CHORUS


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Subject: Lyr Add: WHO HID THE HALIBUT ON THE POOP DECK?
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 01 Jul 11 - 03:22 PM

Here's my transcription from YouTube:


WHO HID THE HALIBUT ON THE POOP DECK
As sung by Yogi Yorgesson (Harry Stewart)

1. Oh, we sailed down from Alaska on our way to Puget's Pond.
The skipper went aloft; he said he'd take a look around.
When he came down, his face looked like it smelled an awful smell,
And then he called all hands on deck and we all heard him yell:

CHORUS: "Who hid the halibut on the poop deck?
Who hid the halibut on the poop deck?
I'll knock him for a loop,
That silly nincompoop
Who hid the halibut on the poop deck."

2. And old second mate Gid(?) Bjornson says, "Well, this has gotten what(?).
I think that I'll go up and look, just for the halibut."
But he came down and said, "Boys, this will be a smelly trip.
Unless we find that halibut, we better burn the ship."

CHORUS: Who hid the halibut on the poop deck?
Who hid the halibut on the poop deck?
My nose tells me it's there
But I've looked everywhere.
Who hid the halibut on the poop deck?

3. Then the cook said to the captain, "Sir, before I make the soup,
If you have no objection, I'll go snoop around the poop."
The cook was pale when he came down; he headed for his bunk.
He says, "I never knew a fish could outperform a skunk."

CHORUS: Who hid the halibut on the poop deck?
Who hid the halibut on the poop deck?
The whole darn crew was weak
From this game of hide-and-seek
Who hid the halibut on the poop deck?

4. Then up stepped Knut Knutson; he is tougher than a boot.
He says, "I'll find that halibut or my name ain't Knut,"
And fifteen minutes later he had found where it was stored,
And twenty seagulls fainted when he threw it overboard.

CHORUS: Who hid the halibut on the poop deck?
Who hid the halibut on the poop deck?
We never, never knew
What screwball in the crew
Who had hid the halibut on the poop deck.


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Subject: Lyr Add: NINCOMPOOPS HAVE ALL THE FUN (Yorgesson)
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 01 Jul 11 - 03:24 PM

Here's my transcription from YouTube:


NINCOMPOOPS HAVE ALL THE FUN
As sung by Yogi Yorgesson (Harry Stewart)

1. My boss says that I'll never get ahead,
'Cause I'm a big dumb knucklehead.
I wouldn't have his job, you see,
'Cause I'd have to worry about jerks like me.

2. I'm glad I'm a happy nincompoop,
A nincompoop, a jolly nincompoop.
Smart people worry when the day is done,
And nincompoops have all the fun.

3. Our youngest boy gave us an awful fright.
When he was born, he looked too bright,
But we don't worry now because
He's a happy boob just like his daddy was.

4. I'm glad I'm a happy nincompoop,
A nincompoop, a jolly nincompoop.
Smart kiesters(?) work like a son-of-a-gun
While nincompoops have all the fun.

SPOKEN: It was years ago when I was gathering eggs in the chicken coop
That I first felt that strange longing for a female nincompoop.
Then two months later, at the Odd Fellows Hall,
I heard a loud giggle—the nincompoops' mating call.
She and I was drawn to each other; we are two goofy birds of a feather.
So we got married and made sweet Scandihoovian music together.
And now when long winter evenings come,
We just sit and pop our Juicy Fruit gum.
We listen to quiz programs and laugh about how much we don't know.
It Pays to Be Ignorant is our favorite radio show.
We got no brains, and we don't want none,
'Cause nincompoops, yah, jolly nincompoops have all the fun!

5. I'm glad I'm a happy nincompoop,
A nincompoop, a jolly nincompoop.
I've learned one lesson; it's a simple one:
That nincompoops have all the fun.


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Subject: Lyr Add: THE BEES AND THE BIRDS (Yogi Yorgesson)
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 01 Jul 11 - 03:26 PM

Here's my transcription from YouTube:


THE BEES AND THE BIRDS
As sung by Yogi Yorgesson (Harry Stewart)

1. I got a suggestion from Hulda my wife
That I tell our small boy the bare facts of life.
So one day I called him in back of the barn
And I start to begin that most difficult yarn.
I stammer and sputter to find the right words,
As I tell him what goes with the bees and the birds.

CHORUS: "Tweet, tweet" sing the birdies. Bees buzz in the lane,
But the facts of their love life is hard to explain.

2. "Now, Ole, you've got a cute girlfriend," I said.
"Pretend she's a bird with a bright yellow head.
This girl bird, she chirps at the bird she likes best,
And the first thing you know there is eggs in a nest."
Then Ole says, "Pop, just between us two men,
I am sure that my girl can't hatch eggs like a hen."

3. I tried to describe the lovemaking of bees.
I sound like a jerk and I'm weak in the knees.
Then I said, "Now, Ole, let me make this clear:
Don't start this here kissing and smooching, you hear?"
Then Ole says, "Pop, you old son-of-a-gun,
How can smooching be bad when it's so darn much fun?"

CHORUS: "Tweet, tweet" sing the birdies. Bees buzz in the lane,
But the facts of their love life is hard to explain.

4. Then I told my boy about pollen and trees,
How love amongst blossoms depends on the bees.
Then Ole says, "Don't discuss rooster and hen
Till I tell you all about women and men."
Then I learned a lot and heard many big words,
'Cause he knew more than me 'bout the bees and the birds.

5. In school my kid learned stuff of this very sort.
He's read some darn book called The Kinsey Report.
Now, all that I read during my boyhood years
Was the catalog put out by Roebuck and Sears,
And I was quite shocked just to think they would dare
To show beautiful ladies in long underwear.

CHORUS: "Tweet, tweet" sing the birdies. Bees buzz in the lane,
And whatever I don't know, my kid will explain.


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Subject: Lyr Add: MRS. YOHNSON, TURN ME LOOSE (Y Yorgesson)
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 01 Jul 11 - 03:28 PM

Here's my transcription from YouTube:


MRS. YOHNSON, TURN ME LOOSE
As sung by "Yogi Yorgesson" (Harry Stewart)

1. Mrs. Johnson's a widow; she's just fifty-three.
For months she's been dreaming of capturing me.
She follows me places; she calls on the phone.
She's full of love and won't leave me alone.

CHORUS: Mrs. Johnson, turn me loose.
Mrs. Johnson, it's no use.
I don't want to get married.
Mrs. Johnson, turn me loose.

2. She's buried four husbands, this loving old hen.
All of them died very tired old men,
But she's full of fire, and my friends all agree,
Her big glassy eyes they are focused on me. CHORUS

3. She watches and waits till I go in a bar,
I order a beer, and I light my cigar.
The bartender winks and I feel like a fool
When old Mrs. Johnson climbs on the next stool. CHORUS

4. She flutters her eyelids and says, "Howdy-do."
She puts on some rouge, and on her it turns blue,
And she looks at me and she breathes heavily.
Ja, when I am near, she just pants constantly. CHORUS

5. She says she'll cook dinner for me in her flat,
But I know that I will get trapped like a rat,
'Cause she'll get us married 'fore I catch my breath,
And like her four husbands, she'll love me to death. CHORUS


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Subject: Lyr Add: MY LITTLE OLD SHACK IN MINNEAPOLIS, MINN.
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 01 Jul 11 - 03:30 PM

Here's my transcription from YouTube:


MY LITTLE OLD SHACK IN MINNEAPOLIS, MINNESOTA
As sung by "Yogi Yorgesson" (Harry Stewart)
Tune: MY LITTLE GRASS SHACK IN KEALAKEKUA, HAWAII

1. I want to go back to my little old shack in Minneapolis, Minnesota,
(A-wahoo-de-hoo!)
With the Petersons and Bjornsons and the Olsons that I knew long ago.
(Dear hearts and gentle people!)
I can see those Swedes all dancing.
Them blonde girls sure look cute.
Oh, I can hear those big Swedes hooting,
With a "hey-nonny-Svenska" and a "poop-poop-a-doop."
Oh, how I yearn to return to my shack by the river.
(Hoo-hoo-de-hoo!)
Ja, Hetty Jensen's waiting there for me.
(Oh, holy gee!)
We'll be wed in Minneapolis sometime next fall.
We'll spend our honeymoon in a hotel in Saint Paul.
I want to go back to my little old shack in Minneapolis, Minnesota,
Where the mackerel and the pickerel and the lutefisk go swimming by.*

2. I want to go back to my little old shack in Minneapolis, Minnesota,
(Ska-doody-doody-doody!)
Where Hetty Jensen's waiting patiently.
(She's my sweet patootie.)
She sits and cracks her knuckles looking forward to the day
When I'll arrive there shouting,
"Got a pocket full of Sen-Sen for my sweetheart Hetty Jensen."
I'll go back to the shack that I built down by the river,
(Ja, sure!)
Where life is sweet and Swedes are always gay.
(Hey, hey, hey, hey!)
We'll spend the time romancing each night away,
Then we'll go fishing ev'ry day.
I want to go back to my little old shack in Minneapolis, Minnesota,
Where the mackerel and the pickerel and the lutefisk go swimming by,
Where the mackerel and the pickerel and the lutefisk go swimming by.

[* An absurdity. Mackerel are salt-water fish, and there is no salt water within hundreds of miles of Minnesota. Pickerel exist here, but we don't call them that; we call them northern pike, or northerns for short. Lutefisk is a prepared dish made from dried and reconstituted fish fillets, usually cod.]


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Subject: Lyr Add: SOMEONE SPIKED THE PUNCH AT LENA'S WEDDIN
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 01 Jul 11 - 03:32 PM

Here's my transcription from YouTube:


SOMEONE SPIKED THE PUNCH AT LENA'S WEDDING
As sung by "Yogi Yorgesson" (Harry Stewart)

1. Me and the little woman was as happy as could be.
We fin'lly married our daughter off when she was thirty-three.
She was married in our home, and things went quietly,
Till someone spiked the punch at Lena's wedding.

2. They was the cutest couple that our friends had ever seen.
Lena weighed one-eighty and the groom weighed one-sixteen.
He looked pale when they got hitched, but later he turned green,
'Cause someone spiked the punch at Lena's wedding.

3. After the kids was married, the crowd was dry and hot.
They all think a nice cool drink will really hit the spot.
I'm ashamed when I recall how plastered they all got.
Oh, some was sleeping; some got leaping; oh, they drank a lot!

SPOKEN: The whole darn bunch was whooping it up. The wedding turned into a brawl,
'Cause no one knew that our fruit-juice punch was spiked with pure alcohol.
Mrs. Olson, the head of the Ladies' Aid, she was loaded and sure having fun.
"Let's dance!" she yelled at the preacher, and she leaped up like a son-of-a-gun.
Pete Lonquist the undertaker, who don't smile at you till you're dead,
Suddenly jumped up on the table with our best lampshade on his head.
Then through the crowd in her wedding dress, blubb'ring and ready for fight,
Came Lena screaming, "Oh, Papa, my Ingvall is out like a light!"
And sure enough, on the davenport, with his hair full of rice and confetti,
Was Ingvall, the bridegroom, all stretched out as limp and as white as spaghetti.
When I felt his hand, it was cold and moist, and his forehead was colder and moister.
Then he opened one eye, which looked to me just like a big blue oyster.
Lena, she fold her muscular arms, and everyone there heard her yell:
"The car is out front and our wedding night we'll spend in some quiet motel!"
She took hold of her husband right by the neck, and where the seat of his pants hung slack.
Then Lena left on her honeymoon with her man riding piggyback.

4. The next day it was Sunday and the preacher had to wait,
'Cause some of the wedding guests arrived in church a little late,
And the preacher knew the reason for his full collection plate
Was that someone spiked the punch at Lena's wedding,
But we all had fun!


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Subject: Lyr Add: VOT SKALL WE DO? (Yogi Yorgesson)
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 01 Jul 11 - 03:33 PM

Here's my transcription from YouTube:


VOT SKALL WE DO?
As sung by "Yogi Yorgesson" (Harry Stewart)

1. Saturday night I shampooed my wife's hair.
I rinsed it in vinegar; she didn't care.
It got in her ears; now she hears a lot less.
She's suff'ring from pickled hearing, I guess.

CHORUS: We got a trouble. What shall we do?
We got a trouble. What shall we do?
Hallelujah, brother! I'm asking you:
Holy Moses, what shall we do?

2. Into each life they say must fall some rain.
My uncle has water upon his poor brain.
It don't bother Uncle, no, I tell you that.
He stands in the sun and steams clams in his hat.

3. Daughter is biggest of all of my kids.
Her kneecaps stick out just like two fruit-jar lids.
Her legs are so big that when she's in a rush,
She puts on her(?) makeup with a ...(?) brush.

4. Wifey she got her face lifted because
She don't like her puss sagging under ...(?),
But with it so high, she can't see where she's at
Till I cut two holes in the crown of her hat.

5. I crossed a swan with a big healthy goose.
I raised a big dumb bird that I call a swoose.
Then I crossed some hoot-owls with nanny-goats too.
My barn's full of hoot-nannies. What shall I do?


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Subject: Lyr Add: COOKIES, PIE AND CAKE (Yogi Yorgesson)
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 01 Jul 11 - 03:35 PM

Here's my transcription from YouTube:


COOKIES, PIE AND CAKE
As sung by "Yogi Yorgesson" (Harry Stewart)

My little woman read a book that tells what food is right
For us to eat so we'll stay young and slim and full of fight.
Now I get lousy meals all day and no food late at night.
Life ain't sweet when I can't eat cookies, pie, and cake.

My wife says this new diet food will make us young and cute.
She says that we'll feel better eating vegetables and fruit.
By bedtime every evening I could eat a rubber boot.
For goodness' sake, I wish she'd make some cookies, pie, and cake.

I am eating health food that is served in gooey masses,
Stuff like powdered yeast and yoghurt, thick stuff with molasses.
My wife she says she's losing weight; she'll soon look young and chic,
But she has only lost about two ounces ev'ry week.
She thinks that she's reducing, but she's just got a slow leak.
Her girdle's tight without a bite of cookies, pie, and cake.

SPOKEN: Since the little woman read this book about looking better and feeling younger,
My stomach suffers in two ways: ja, from nausea and from hunger.
She fixes awful messes of wheat germ, powdered milk, and peanut oil.
She never fries me anything, 'cause the book says, "Don't fry; boil."
I like fried liver for my lunch. She boils it; she won't fry it.
Oh, I just hate her, and she hates me, since we've been on this diet.
At dinner when she gets the health food down from off the shelf,
I sit and eat those soybeans and mumble bad words to myself.
She uses herbs that grow out west on those mountains called Tujungas(?)
And with those herbs she makes a cake that tastes and smells like fungus.
She says: "Skinny Bulgarians eat sour cream, and that's what we both need."
I say: "Nuts to skinny Bulgarians; I'm a fat pie-eating Swede!"
"The diet book says you won't live long. Eat right. It's now or never!"
I say: "Diets are for knuckleheads. I don't want to live forever!"

Now wifey says that vitamins will make me sing and dance.
She's hoping hormones and bevon(?) will give love one more chance.
But if I get my cake and pie, I'll do without romance.
Oh, give me food! I'm in the mood for cookies, pie, and cake.


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Subject: Lyr Add: REAL GONE GALOOT (Yogi Yorgesson)
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 01 Jul 11 - 03:36 PM

Here's my transcription from YouTube:


REAL GONE GALOOT
As sung by "Yogi Yorgesson" (Harry Stewart)

I flunked in music in high school. They said I had no talent, and how!
But them high school teachers was crazy. Just listen to me now.

Rooty-toot-toot! Hoo-ha! Rooty-toot-toot!
I just got my diploma from the Jazz Institute.
I've learned to sing words like poop-oop-pa-doop.
It says on my diploma I'm a real gone galoot.

Rooty-toot-toot! Hoo-ha! Rooty-toot-toot!
The bobby-soxers love me at the Jazz Institute.
They holler and whoop when I wear my zoot suit,
And when I croon, they tell me I'm a real gone galoot.

I'm gone. Yeah, I have really went.
And when I send off babes, them little tooties(?) go where they been sent.

Rooty-toot-toot! Hoo-ha! Rooty-toot-toot!
I learned this modern music at the Jazz Institute.
Hey-boob-a-ree-ba! Skiddy-dee-boo-skiddoot!
The teachers say, "My goodness! He's a real gone galoot."

Oh, I surprised my teacher not long ago,
Singing "Hold That Tiger" real soft and slow.
"'Hold That Tiger' ain't no love song," the teacher sighed.
"It is to a tiger," I quickly replied.
Oh, they think I'm a card at the Jazz Institute.
On the campus I'm referred to as a real gone galoot.

I'm gone. Jive is my specialty.
But when I do be-bop, Dizzy Gillespie gets jealous of me.

Rooty-toot-toot! Hoo-ha! Rooty-toot-toot!
I owe an awful lot to the Jazz Institute.
Walto-reeny, pussy-pussy, walto-reeny-root!
I'm a genuine Wild-West dog, and I'm a real gone galoot.


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Subject: Lyr Add: A LETTER FROM HARRY (Yogi Yorgesson)
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 01 Jul 11 - 06:24 PM

Here's my transcription from the recording at The Internet Archive:


A LETTER FROM HARRY
As sung by "Yogi Yorgesson" (Harry Stewart)

I just got a letter from Harry.
I sure did enjoy it a lot.
This letter from Harry surprised me.
I thought he was off on the yacht.

He says that his daughter is singing.
She's doing the best that she can.
Everyone thinks she sings pretty,
Especially the newspaper man.[1]

Harry says he bought new neckties,
The kind that you tie in a bow.
When it comes to values in neckties,
Harry's the boy that should know.[2]

Harry's first hobby is letters.
Writer's cramp ain't one of his faults.
His next hobby is his piano,
And playing his favorite waltz.

SPOKEN: Good old Harry! Bless his little old heart! I can hear him now playing that song of his: "Carry Me Back to Old Missouri."[3] You know, Harry writes like he talks, with simple words, words that even a Missouri muleskinner can understand.[4] Everyone is impressed by Harry's letters. In fact, when he writes a note or plays it, people say, "...(?) my goodness!" You know some fellow said something about his daughter's singing. Harry just took his pen in hand and wrote this fellow a nice cheery little thank-you note, and would you believe it? Harry wrote a letter to all the fellows in the United States Marines. Ja, and they answered it, too.[5]

I just got a letter from Harry.
Its message was cheerful and bright.
He says that he's sending more letters.
A different kind he has to write.

Maybe he'll send you a letter,
'Cause he's sending out quite a few.
You'll know when you get Harry's letter,
'Cause it starts with his "greetings" to you.[6]


NOTES:

1. From Wikipedia: On December 6, 1950, music critic Paul Hume wrote a critical review of a concert by Margaret Truman: "Miss Truman is a unique American phenomenon with a pleasant voice of little size and fair quality ... (she) cannot sing very well ... is flat a good deal of the time — more last night than at any time we have heard her in past years ... has not improved in the years we have heard her ... (and) still cannot sing with anything approaching professional finish."

In response, Truman wrote a scathing response: "I've just read your lousy review of Margaret's concert. I've come to the conclusion that you are an 'eight ulcer man on four ulcer pay.' It seems to me that you are a frustrated old man who wishes he could have been successful. When you write such poppy-cock as was in the back section of the paper you work for, it shows conclusively that you're off the beam and at least four of your ulcers are at work. Some day I hope to meet you. When that happens you'll need a new nose, a lot of beefsteak for black eyes, and perhaps a supporter below! Pegler, a gutter snipe, is a gentleman alongside you. I hope you'll accept that statement as a worse insult than a reflection on your ancestry."

2. Harry Truman's profession, before going into politics, was running a haberdashery shop in Kansas City.

3. Those words do not appear in Truman's signature tune, "The Missouri Waltz" a.k.a. "HUSH-A-BYE, MA BABY. Yorgesson is confusing it, perhaps deliberately, with CARRY ME BACK TO OLD VIRGINNY.

4. No doubt a reference to Truman's reputation for "salty" talk.

5. From Wikipedia: "Both Truman and [Secretary of Defense Louis A.] Johnson had a particular antipathy to Navy and Marine Corps budget requests. Truman proposed disbanding the Marine Corps entirely as part of the 1948 defense reorganization plan but the idea was abandoned after a letter-writing campaign and the intervention of influential Marine veterans."

6. Letters from a draft board, notifying the recipient that he was being conscripted, traditionally began with "Greetings."


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Subject: Lyr Add: ALL POOPED OUT (Yogi Yorgesson)
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 01 Jul 11 - 07:11 PM

Here's my transcription from the recording at The Internet Archive:


ALL POOPED OUT
As sung by "Yogi Yorgesson" (Harry Stewart)

Once upon a time I gave the girls the eye.
Now I'd rather have another piece of pie.
When I danced with girls, I used to jump and shout.
Now I sit and watch because I'm all pooped out.

I loved all the girls but that was years ago.
Ev'ry night I used to dream of Clara Bow.
Now I dream of pigs' feet and of sauerkraut.
When you dream of food, it means you're all pooped out.

Underneath the moon,
I used to nearly swoon
When I would smell the odor of my girl's perfume.
Now a girl's cologne
Leaves me cold as stone,
But how I love the food smell in the dining room!

I could dance the polka like a jumping jack.
That's what loosened up my sacroiliac.
Now instead of dancing I just brag about
All the things I did before I got pooped out.

In my Model T,
In nineteen-twenty-three,
We drank a quart of home brew and we all got looped.
Now at age fifteen(?),
I drink Ovaltine.
I'd like to raise the dickens but I'm just too pooped.

Once I got entranced by girls that I adored.
Now I get that way about a smorgasbord.
Love has passed me by but there's no use to pout.
Let me have my mem'ries and be all pooped out.


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Subject: Lyr Add: BE KIND TO THE STREET-CORNER SANTA
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 01 Jul 11 - 11:34 PM

Here's my transcription from the recording at The Internet Archive:


BE KIND TO THE STREET-CORNER SANTA
As sung by "Yogi Yorgesson" (Harry Stewart)

1. Be kind to the street-corner Santy Claus.
He stands all day long in one spot,
And he can't help but mind
When he look and he find
Pants buttons and slugs in his pot.

2. Be kind to the street-corner Santy Claus,
In Rockford, Moline, or Des Moines,
'Cause when he collects dough,
It's for poor folks, you know,
So make his pot jingle with coin.

SPOKEN: Listen, brother; I volunteered to work for the charitable cause.
Ja, I joined the pot and the bell brigade as a street-corner Santy Claus.
My red suit, it don't fit, and my pants, where I sit,
Hang down for nearly two feet,
And I wish for all sorts of fur-covered shorts
When the wind blows up under my seat.
The beard that I wear, made of nanny-goat hair,
It keeps shedding all over my clothes,
And with ev'ry darn breath, I am tickled to death
With the whiskers that blow up my nose.
Some kids who give money are real cute and funny.
Some others are certainly weird.
I kissed one little kid, and was sorry I did.
He blew bubble gum into my beard.
A quarter goes "cling" and a dime makes a "ping."
Ja, most folks are nice on the street,
But the guys I can't stand are the ones who demand
That I give them a tax receipt.
Brother, when you see us guys in the Santa disguise,
Who are dressed to resemble Saint Nick,
Remember, we stay on street corners all day
And get cold as a witch's broomstick.

3. Be kind to the street-corner Santy Claus.
His job is monot'nous and grim.
If you can't give a lot,
Drop a dime in his pot
And say "Merry Christmas" to him.


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Subject: Lyr Add: MY CLAM-DIGGER SWEETHEART (Y Yorgesson)
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 02 Jul 11 - 12:06 AM

Here's my transcription from the recording at The Internet Archive:


MY CLAM-DIGGER SWEETHEART
As sung by "Yogi Yorgesson" (Harry Stewart)

Frieda, my clam-digger sweetheart,
You got me captured.
I'm so enraptured.
I'm crazy nuts about you.

Frieda, my clam-digger sweetheart,
I need you badly.
I love you madly.
I'm passionately cuckoo for you.

Oh, Frieda, you're so sexy,
Your ...(?) does perplex me
To think that you could love a great big jerk like me.
Oh, Frieda, my clam-digger sweetheart,
I'm crazy nuts about you.

SPOKEN: Oh, say, I met Frieda at low tide one morning.
We was both digging clams like mad.
She stopped* to pick up her bucket,
And I said to myself, "Not bad!"
The way she dug clams was so dainty,
It just seemed to heat up my blood.
Then I dug up close to her, and love was born
When our shovels met in the mud.
My heart was pounding like crazy,
And her shovel was trembling, too.
Then I dropped a few clams in her bucket,
And bashfully said, "How do?"
Now me and Frieda go steady.
We dig clams together just fine.
I scrape the mud off her shovel,
And she scrapes the mud off of mine.
Ah, she is a beautiful creature,
With shoulders and neck like a bull.
Her hair is so red and so curly,
It look just like rusty steel wool.
She's got a cute little stye on her eye.
Her heart is pure gold like her teeth.
Soon after we're married, I hope I shall hear
The squish in the mud of small feet.
For a wedding present I am going to get
A bigger shovel for my bride.
Ja, then we shall go through life together,
Digging clams, ja, digging clams side by side.

Ah, Frieda my clam-digger sweetheart,
I'm passionately cuckoo.
Ja, you're such a lulu,
I'm crazy nuts about you.


* He sings "stopped" but "stooped" would be funnier.


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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Songs by 'Yogi Yorgesson' (Harry Stewart)
From: GUEST
Date: 26 Jul 11 - 09:49 PM

Our family use to listen to this song on the car radio every Sunday morning on our way to church over 65 years ago. I still remember most of the words.   Lots of precious memories. Thanks, an old Swede


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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Songs by 'Yogi Yorgesson' (Harry Stewart)
From: GUEST,Jim Dixon at the Webster WI library
Date: 27 Jul 11 - 04:36 PM

Which song? There are 17 of them in this thread.

Not that it matters to me, but I have repeatedly seen newcomers post messages at Mudcat that suggest that they simply aren't aware that the thread they are looking at contains more than one message. I would love to know why this happens.

I have seen newbies post duplicate copies of lyrics that have already been posted, ask questions that have already been answered, answer questions that have already been answered, etc., in the very same thread.


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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Songs by 'Yogi Yorgesson' (Harry Stewart)
From: GUEST
Date: 11 Jan 12 - 02:02 AM

"bevon" is "B-1" (vitamin)


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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Songs by 'Yogi Yorgesson' (Harry Stewart)
From: GUEST,Everett Ellestad
Date: 29 Dec 13 - 06:18 AM

Back in da vinter of 1948, ja I tink it vas. I recited his "On the night before Christmas..." to a full house in a crammed country school. It vas part of da Christmas show, you know. I vas 12 and got a big applause, for sure. For many, many years, I could remember all the lines, but den I forgot vone or two. Den maybe 20 years ago, I found a tape of his record. So, every Christmas my family and I play dis tune. Tanks for da vords. You bet!


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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Songs by 'Yogi Yorgesson' (Harry Stewart)
From: GUEST,Larry
Date: 21 May 18 - 10:24 PM

Smart GEEZERS work like a son of a gun.


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