Songs sung by Kinky Friedman

Subject: RE: Songs sung by Kinky Friedman
From: Greg F.
Date: 08 Oct 14 - 09:58 AM

Ride 'em Jewboy
Kinky Friedman


Ride, ride em jewboy,
Ride em all around the old corral.
I'm, I'm with you boy
If I've got to ride six million miles.

Now the smoke from camps are rising
See the helpless creatures on their way.
Hey, old pal, ain't it surprising
How far you can go before you stay.

Don't you let the morning blind ya
When on your sleeve you wore the yeller star.
Old memories still live behind ya,
Can't you see by your outfit who you are.

How long will you be driven relentless round the world,
The blood in the rhythm of the soul.

Wild ponies all your dreams were broken,
Rounded up and made to move along.
The loneliness which can't be spoken
Just swings a rope and rides inside a song.

Dead limbs play with ringless fingers
A melody which burns you deep inside.
Oh, how the song becomes the singers,
May peace be ever with you as you ride.

How long will you be driven relentless around the world,
The blood in the rhythm of the soul.

In the window candles glowing
Remind you that today you are a child,
Road ahead, forever rolling,
And anything worth cryin' can be smiled.

So ride, ride em jewboy,
Ride em all around the old corral.
I'm, I'm with you boy
If I've got to ride six million miles.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iamk3cZI1ec

Subject: RE: Songs sung by Kinky Friedman
From: GUEST,#
Date: 08 Oct 14 - 09:08 AM

KF does 'TAMJLJA' on YouTube.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z0ZMj5RksbE

Subject: Lyr Add: WE RESERVE THE RIGHT TO REFUSE SERVICE...
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 07 Oct 14 - 06:40 PM

WE RESERVE THE RIGHT TO REFUSE SERVICE TO YOU
As sung by Kinky Friedman

1. While trav'lin' through the Lone Star State
I lost my lunch before I ate.
It happened in a bullet-head café.
I felt my bones begin to crunch.
I saw my name on the bidnessman's lunch,
And the 'neck who owned the place stepped up to say:
"Hey, buddy, are ya blind?
Say, partner, can't you read the sign?

"We reserve the right to refuse service to you.
Take yer bidness back to Walgreen's; have you tried yer local zoo?
You smell just like a communist; you come through just like a Jew.
We reserve the right to refuse service – to you."

2. Well, I walked on into my house of God,
Congregation on the nod,
Just chosen folks a-doin' their weekly thing.
"Hear, O Israel," yes indeed.
My book was backwards; couldn't read,
But I got a good rise when I heard that rabbi sing:
"Baruch atah adonai—
What the hell you doin' back there, boy?

"We reserve the right to refuse services to you.
Your friends are all on welfare; you call yourself a Jew!
You need your ticket and your tie to zip your prayers on through.
We reserve the right to refuse services – unto you."

3. Live from Laos and Cambodia!
No more tears; tonight I showed ya
The latest old war movies on TV.
You know it's bound to escalate,
So go and turn on channel eight.
Watch channel seven, border channel three.
Well, I won't man your tanks and jets and jeeps,
And speakin' on behalf of all my fellow creeps—

"We reserve the right to refuse service to you.
Right face!—And get the children too!
Let Saigon's be by bygones; don't you blow this world in two.
We reserve the right to refuse service – to you."

4. Well, it's just my luck that god's a Texan,
One big some-bitchin' Anglo-Saxon,
Some crazy kind o' tall Norwegie-board.
Well, just to have my body shipped air freight
From Texas to the Pearly Gate,
Just ring the bell and leave me at the door.
I'll be somewhere over Jordan swingin' low.
I'll hear them tape-recorded angels in lifelike stereo—

Singin': "We reserve the right to refuse service to you.
Take your bidness back to Walgreen's; have you tried your local zoo?
Our quota's filled for this year on singin' Texas Jews.
We reserve the right to refuse service – to you."

* * *
The entire song, as shown above, is sung on:
"Sold American" (1973)
"Old Testaments & New Revelations" (1992)
"Mayhem Aforethought" (2005)
Verse 3 is omitted on:
"Classic Snatches from Europe" (2003)
"Bi-Polar Tour: Live from Woodstock" (2012)

Subject: Lyr Add: THE BALLAD OF CHARLES WHITMAN (Friedman)
From: Midchuck
Date: 06 Oct 14 - 05:11 PM

And, of course, possibly the ultimate song for Bad Taste:

THE BALLAD OF CHARLES WHITMAN

He was sitting up there for more than an hour
Way up there on the Texas Tower
Shooting from the twenty-seventh floor.
He didn't choke or slash or slit, man,
Not our Charles Joseph Whitman
He won't be an architect no more

Got up that morning calm and cool
He picked up his guns and walked to school
All the while he smiled so sweetly
And it blew their minds completely
They'd never seen an Eagle Scout so cruel

Now won't you think for the shame and degradation
For the school's administration
To put on such a bold and brassy show
The Chancellor cried, "It's adolescent
And of course it's most unpleasant
But I got to admit it was a lovely way to go"

There was a rumor about a tumor
Nestled at the base of his brain
He was sitting up there with his .36 Magnum
Laughing wildly as he bagged 'em
Who are we to say the boy's insane?

Now Charlie was awful disappointed
Else he thought he was anointed
To do a deed so lowdown and so mean
The students looked up from their classes
Had to stop and rub their glasses
Who'd believe he'd once been a Marine

Now Charlie made the honor roll with ease
Most all of his grades was A's and B's
A real rip snorting, trigger squeezer
Charlie proved a big crowd pleaser
Though he had been known to make a couple C's.

Some were dying, some were weeping
Some were studying, some were sleeping
Some were shouting, "Texas number one!"
Some were running, some were falling
Some were screaming, some were bawling
Some thought the revolution had begun.

The doctors tore his poor brain down
But not a snitch of illness could be found
Most folks couldn't figure just-a why he did it
And them that could would not admit it
There's still a lot of Eagle Scouts around

There was a rumor about a tumor
Nestled at the base of his brain
He was sitting up there with his .36 Magnum
Laughing wildly as he bagged 'em
Who are we to say the boy's insane?

Subject: Lyr Add: THEY AIN'T MAKING JEWS LIKE JESUS ANYMORE
From: robomatic
Date: 06 Oct 14 - 04:36 PM

Warning:
Bad ethnic slur words, which are part of the original lyric, are included below

THEY AIN'T MAKING JEWS LIKE JESUS ANYMORE

Well, a redneck nerd in a bowlin' shirt was a-guzzlin' Lone Star beer
Talking religion and-uh politics for all the world to hear.
"They oughta send you back to Russia, boy, or New York City, one.
You just want to diddle a Christian girl and you killed God's only son."

I said, "Has it occurred to you, you nerd, that that's not very nice,
We Jews believe it was Santa Claus that killed Jesus Christ."
"You know, you don't look Jewish," he said. "Near as I could figger,
I had you lamped for a slightly anemic, well-dressed country nigger."

No, they ain't makin' Jews like Jesus anymore.
They don't turn the other cheek the way they done before.
He started in to shoutin' and spittin' on the floor.
Lord, they ain't makin' Jews like Jesus anymore.

He says, "I ain't a racist but Aristittle Onaysis is one Greek we don't need,
And them niggers, Jews and Sigma Nus, all they ever do is breed.
And wops 'n' micks 'n' slopes 'n' spics 'n' spooks are on my list,
And there's one little Hebe from the heart of Texas; is there anyone I missed?"

Well, I hits him with ever'thing I had right square between the eyes.
I says, "I'm gonna gitcha, you son of a bitch ya, for spoutin' that pack of lies.
If there's one thing I can't abide, it's an ethnocentric racist.
Now you take back what you just said 'bout Aristittle Onaysis."

No, they ain't makin' Jews like Jesus anymore.
We don't turn the other cheek the way we done before.
You hear that honky holler as he hit that hardwood floor.
Lord, they ain't a-makin' Jews like Jesus anymore.

Everybody!
They ain't makin' Jews like Jesus anymore.
They ain't makin' carpenters who know what nails are for.
Well, the whole damn place was singin' as I strolled right out the door:
Lord, they ain't makin' Jews like Jesus anymore!

No, we ain't makin' Jews like Jesus anymore.
We don't turn the other cheek the way they done before.
Well, the whole damn place was singin' as I strolled right out the door:
Lord, they ain't makin' Jews like Jesus anymore!

Subject: Lyr Add: ASSHOLE FROM EL PASO (from Kinky Friedman
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 06 Oct 14 - 03:55 PM

I ran across this while looking for something else, and I thought it ought to be added to Mudcat's collection of songs. It's obviously a parody of Merle Haggard's song OKIE FROM MUSKOGEE. There doesn't seem to be a thread devoted to that song (although it's in the DT), otherwise I would have gladly added this parody to it. Instead, I thought it might be a good idea to start a thread about Kinky Friedman's songs.

YouTube has several recordings by various artists.


ASSHOLE FROM EL PASO
Lyrics by Chinga Chavin & Snakebite Jacobs
As sung by Kinky Friedman and the Texas Jewboys on "Old Testaments & New Revelations"; also on "Live from Down Under" and "Classic Snatches from Europe"

1. We don't have no love-ins in El Paso.
We don't go to porno picture shows.
We don't swap our wives with our neighbors,
And we keep our kids away from Mexico.

CHORUS: And I'm proud to be an asshole from El Paso,
The place where sweet young virgins are deflowered.
You walk down the street knee-deep in tacos (t-t-t-tacos)*
And the wetbacks still get twenty cents an hour.

2. We don't wipe our asses on Old Glory.
God and Lone Star beer are things we trust.
We keep our women virgins till they're married,
So hosin' sheep is good enough for us.

[* As a variation, Friedman sings "enchiladas (enchi-chiladas)"]

[The following additional verses are sung by Chinga Chavin on "Adults Only" but they are not on any Friedman recording that I can find:]

3. We don't burn our brains out on tequila.
We don't squeeze our zits out on the wall.
We don't kiss our mommies in our wet dreams,
And a peyote enema is the biggest thrill of all.

4. Our wives don't nurse their babies out on Main Street.
No, they don't put their bosoms on display.
They don't feed us no crunchy granola,
'Cause them fruits and nuts will just make ya fart all day.

5. We don't live in communes or have orgies.**
We don't mess with commies, queers, or Jews,
And we don't tie and macramé our nose-hairs
Just like the hippies out in San Francisco do.

[** Chavin pronounces "orgies" with a hard "g" like "baggies."
In the chorus, he also sings "braceros" instead of "wetbacks."]