Collectively written cybersong

03 Feb 01 - 04:48 PM (#389301)
Subject: Collectively written cybersong
From: Suffet

IT WAS SAD WHEN THE PRESIDENT WENT DOWN
Collectively written Internet cybersong (Public Domain)
Tune: THE TITANIC
Rating: NC-17

1. Bill Clinton got elected in 1992,
As he moved into the White House, he dreamed what he would do:
First a puff of dope,
And then a little grope.
It was sad when the President went down.

Chorus (repeat after each stanza):

It was sad, it was sad,
It was sad when the President went down (to the bottom of the...),
As he grabbed one by the thighs,
The Secret Service closed their eyes,
It was sad when the President went down.

2. They say that Mrs. Clinton picked up a rolling pin,
And several times had threatened to do the bastard in,
But each time she spared the louse,
'Cause she loved that big White House,
It was sad when the President went down.

3. Oh, the Clintons threw a party for all their movie pals,
And said "Please bring your checkbook," to all those guys and gals.
"For ten thousand bucks," they said,
"You can screw in Lincoln's bed."
It was sad when the President went down.

4. Linda Tripp said to Lewinsky, "You can trust me, honey.
Is it true like Paula said, Bill's private parts look funny?
Speak louder, Monica dear,
Kenneth Starr he needs to hear."
It was sad when the President went down.

5. Poor old Mike McCurry couldn't handle all the press,
Donaldson and Blitzer were asking 'bout The Dress,
Helen Thomas was relentless,
Cokie Roberts spared no efforts.
It was sad when the President went down.

6. As the Dow approached ten thousand no one gave a hoot,
About all the funny money and all the foreign loot.
"It's the economy!" we were told,
As they took that Asian gold.
It was sad when the President went down.

7. Bill Clinton had an intern and she got down on her knees,
He said, "It is your job your President to please.
But I'll give you nothing finer,
Than a cheroot in your vagina."
It was sad when the President went down.

8. Ken Starr he had a mission to destroy the President,
He checked up on Slick Willy and where Willy's willy went.
It became his life's obsession,
A real life True Confession!
It was sad when the President went down.

9. It started in the White House, but it ended on TV,
Where the public got a play-by-play of promiscuity,
Poor Lewinsky said "I blew it!
There was only one side to it."
It was sad when the President went down.

10. Those moral folks in Congress, they had to make some sense,
Whether what Slick Willy did was an impeachable offense,
Some said, "Sack the horny bum,
We don't want sex in Washington!" (Yeah, sure!)
It was sad when the President went down.

11. Half the Senate said "Let's dump him!" and half said "Set him fee!"
So "Not Guilty" is the verdict that went down in history.
But we pissed a year away,
On the President's B.J.
It was sad when the President went down.

12. We really thought Bill blew it with all those lies and sex,
But first Gingrich and then Livingston -- and maybe Hyde is next.
One by one those pricks have gone,
While Slick Willy's hanging on,
Ain't you glad that our President came back?

New chorus:

Yes we're glad, yes we're glad,
We are glad that our President came back (to the surface of the...),
So he told a lie or two,
But in his place wouldn't you? (I know I would!)
Yes, we're glad that our President came back.

13. We thought the Clinton era was almost past and gone,
But with Hilary's star a-rising, it won't be gone for long,
Forget about Bush and Gore,
It'll be Clinton in oh-four,
We'll be glad when our Presidents come back.

Final chorus:

We'll be glad, yes well be glad,
We'll glad when our Presidents come back (to the surface of the...),
When Hilary gets sworn in,
We'll have good times once again,
We'll be glad when our Presidents come back.

---

04 Mar 01 - 11:44 AM (#410688)
Subject: RE: Collectively written cybersong
From: Suffet

A collectively written cybersong is one that was created over an Internet newsgroup such as rec.music.folk. One of the best examples is THE FOLKSINGERS' BALL, found in the Digital Tradition. Here's another example.

--- Steve

--------------------

THE DAYS OF '68
Tune: "The Days of '49" (traditional)
Words: Collectively written. Public Domain by mutual consent of the authors.

My name is Steve, you must believe,
From those wild and thrilling days.
They call me a hippy and a beatnik, too,
But what cares I for praise?
I go around throughtout the town,
As time keeps growing late,
And people boast, "There goes a ghost,
From the days of '68."

Chorus [repeat ad lib]:

From the days long past, they're fading fast,
The facts I will relate,
From the days long past, when we kicked ass,
Those days of '68.

There was Abbie the Clown, he was always around,
I never will forget,
He could laugh all day, he could laugh all night,
I guess he's laughing yet.
But Abbie I fear as you shall hear,
Couldn't face the morning straight,
So Abbie died a suicide,
From the days of '68.

There was H. Rap Brown, who wore a frown,
And shades upon his eyes.
Whenever he spoke, the papers wrote,
Sometimes truth and sometimes lies.
But H. Rap Brown, he did go down,
Right through the jail house gate,
And did hard time for some stupid crime,
From the days of '68.

There was young Phil O. from Ohio,
With his tousled head of hair.
Whenever we would need a song,
Phil was always there.
Until it's said his voice went dead,
And his love it turned to hate,
He ran out of hope, and grabbed the rope,
From the days of '68.

There was Timmy B. with his poetry,
Who stood upon the stage,
With voice so pure and lyrics sure,
That jumped from every page.
But Tim, of course, he rode that horse,
Which galloped to his fate,
And on that steed, poor Tim O.D.'d,
From the days of '68.

There was Janis J. from down Texas way,
I can even see her now,
And hear her croon some bluesy tune,
And watch her take a bow.
But Janis J. drank night and day,
She took her whiskey straight,
'Til her life did pass, down a high-ball glass,
From the days of '68.

There was Tricky Dick, our President,
He was elected in that year.
He could trick 'em high, he could trick 'em low,
He could trick 'em far and near.
Until the night he turned a trick,
In the halls of Watergate,
And from then on all his tricks were gone,
From the days of '68.

There was the Ph.D. named Timothy,
Who told us to drop out.
L.S.D. was his magic key,
Of that he had no doubt.
But fantasy and reality,
He could not differentiate,
'Til his dying day, still he'd play,
Like the days of '68.

There was young Tom P. in N. Y., C.
When he had a full head of hair.
He'd write about toys, and scared soldier boys,
And the family love he shared.
Now the war's long past, but with each newscast,
In song he shall translate,
Absurdity and pain, to a catchy refrain,
Like the days of '68.

There was Dr. King, the a man of peace;
Who won the Nobel Prize.
His dream could see true equality,
Too soon came his demise.
He preached that sense and non-violence,
Could overcome all hate.
But a shot was fired, and King expired,
In the days of '68.

Billy Clinton was an unknown youth,
Thriving in Oxford town.
He was a guest of Mr. Rhodes,
Wore mortar board and gown.
Although he smoked, he never inhaled,
Or so he claims of late.
"I prefer a grope, to a puff of dope,"
Says this son of '68.

Young W. was a drinking man,
In those days so long ago.
Twixt Yale and jail, and back again,
Often he would go.
Until one day he sobered up,
But if you ask him straight,
He can't recall those days at all,
Those days of '68.

Some comrades are now dead and gone,
But most are living yet.
And I look back upon those days,
Without the least regret.
I never shall apologize,
And I won't repudiate,
Those days long past, when we kicked ass,
Those days of '68.

---

04 Mar 01 - 02:07 PM (#410741)
Subject: RE: Collectively written cybersong
From: wysiwyg

Bravo!

---

04 Mar 01 - 02:11 PM (#410744)
Subject: RE: Collectively written cybersong
From: MMario

there are a couple over on the Mudcat Songbook (see quicklinks at the top of the page) too. And a few collectivly written stories here on the forum.

---

04 Mar 01 - 07:19 PM (#410889)
Subject: RE: Collectively written cybersong
From: wdyat12

Cool! How are these songs collectively written using the internet?

wdyt12

---

04 Mar 01 - 08:19 PM (#410911)
Subject: RE: Collectively written cybersong
From: wdyat12

Is the music written in the same manner or do you start with some music to guide the lyrics?

wdyat12

---

04 Mar 01 - 09:56 PM (#410944)
Subject: RE: Collectively written cybersong
From: Suffet

All cybersongs so far have been set to existing tunes. In the case of the three that I started, I picked the tune.

--- Steve

---

04 Mar 01 - 10:18 PM (#410954)
Subject: RE: Collectively written cybersong
From: wdyat12

Let's start a cybersong on this thread or a new one. Anyone got a blank sheet of music to send Mudcat? Key of E, 4/4 time, first notes EGAD!

wdyat12

---

15 May 01 - 06:52 AM (#462615)
Subject: RE: Collectively written cybersong
From: Suffet

Here's another collectively written cybersong that began on the rec.music.folk newsgroup a couple of years ago. Enjoy!

THE DAYS OF '68
Tune: THE DAYS OF '49 (traditional)
Words: Collectively written. Public domain by mutual consent of the authors.

My name is Steve, you must believe,
From those wild and thrilling days.
They call me a hippy and a beatnik, too,
But what cares I for praise?
I go around from town the town,
While the time keeps growing late,
And people boast, "There goes a ghost,
From the days of '68."

Chorus [repeat ad lib]:
Those days long past, they're fading fast,
The facts I will relate,
From the days long past, when we kicked ass,
Those days of '68.

There was Abbie the Clown, he was always around,
I never will forget,
He could laugh all day, he could laugh all night,
I guess he's laughing yet.
But Abbie I fear as you shall hear,
Couldn't face the morning straight,
So Abbie died a suicide,
From the days of '68.

There was H. Rap Brown, who wore a frown,
And shades upon his eyes.
Whatever he spoke, the papers wrote,
Sometimes truth and sometimes lies.
But H. Rap Brown, he did go down,
Right through the jail house gate,
And did hard time for some stupid crime,
From the days of '68.

There was young Phil O. from Ohio,
With his tousled head of hair.
Whenever we would need a song,
Young Phil was always there.
Until it's said his voice went dead,
And his love it turned to hate,
He ran out of hope, and grabbed a rope,
And despaired for '68.

There was Timmy B. with his poetry,
Who stood upon the stage,
With voice so pure and lyrics sure,
That jumped from every page.
But Tim, of course, he rode a horse,
That galloped to his fate,
And on that steed, poor Tim O.D.'d,
From the days of '68.

There was Janis J. from down Texas way,
I can even see her now,
And hear her croon some bluesy tune,
And watch her take a bow.
But Janis J. drank night and day,
She took her whiskey straight,
'Til her life did pass, down a high-ball glass,
From the days of '68.

There was Tricky Dick, our President,
He was elected in that year.
He could trick 'em high, he could trick 'em low,
He could trick 'em far and near.
Until the night he turned a trick,
In the halls of Watergate,
And from then on all his tricks were gone,
From the days of '68.

There was the Ph.D. named Timothy,
Who told us to drop out.
L.S.D. was his magic key,
Of that he had no doubt.
But fantasy and reality,
He could not differentiate,
So Tim did play 'til his dying day,
Like the days of '68.

There was young Tom P. in N.Y.C.
Even then his head was bare!
He sang of of toys and soldier boys,
And the family love he shared.
Now the war's long past, but with each newscast,
In song he shall relate,
Absurdity and pain, to a catchy refrain,
Like he did in '68.

There was Dr. King, the a man of peace,
Who won the Nobel Prize.
His dream could see true equality,
Too soon came his demise.
He preached that sense and non-violence,
Could overcome all hate.
But a shot was fired, and King expired,
In the days of '68.

Bill Clinton was an unknown youth,
Living in Oxford town.
He was a guest of Mr. Rhodes,
Wore mortar board and gown.
Although he smoked, he never inhaled,
Or so he claims of late.
"I prefer a grope to a puff of dope,"
Says this son of '68.

G.W. was a drinking man,
In those days so long ago.
'Twixt Yale and jail, and back again,
Oft times he would go.
Until one day he sobered up,
But if you ask him straight,
He can't recall those days at all,
Those days of '68.

Some comrades are now dead and gone,
But most are living yet.
And I look back upon those days,
Without the least regret.
I never shall apologize,
And I won't repudiate,
Those days long past, when we kicked ass,
Those days of '68.

---

15 May 01 - 07:02 AM (#462618)
Subject: Yipes! Sorry.
From: Suffet

Yipes! I meant to sent Days of '68 as a PM to someone, and in my grogginess I reposted it to this tread instead. Sorry. However, please note the very minor changes as the song, like any good folk song, evolves over time.

--- Steve

---