A Seasonista Wrote This...stuff

Whenever I write a song, I go through several edits. This morning I'm getting closer to putting it to music. I wrote the first draft a few nights after playing in a jam in Luckenbach, TX.

The morning revision:

My brothers an alcoholic, he brings the family shame
He goes to AA but doesn’t say his last name.
He has to stay sober every single day
I don’t understand how he got this way

He drank like a car, that didn’t have any brakes.
When he lost his jobs, it was always their mistake.
His third wife left him, just like the other two
Now he’s an alcoholic, and he says that’s all true

Chorus
So he goes to meetings, and collects those little chips
He call up his sponsor and reads books and s**.
He says that since he’s sober he’s feeling brand new
He’s an alcoholic, poor fellow, who knew?

I got caught with a DUI, I tell you, I was framed.
Now my brother drives me around and I’m real ashamed
To be seen with a bum like him, it really makes me sad
He’s an alcoholic, and you know that’s really bad

Chorus
So he goes to meetings, and collects those little chips
He call up his sponsor and reads books and s**.
He says that since he’s sober he’s feeling brand new
He’s an alcoholic, poor fellow, who knew?

Talking
He’s so mean and selfish, he won’t give me any cash
So I’m living in my car that’s completely out of gas.
It’s that old rusty Plymouth, my clothes are in the trunk
My brothers an alcoholic, thank God I’m just a drunk.

Chorus
So he goes to meetings, and collects those little chips
He call up his sponsor and reads books and s**.
He says that since he’s sober he’s feeling brand new
He’s an alcoholic, poor fellow, who knew?

these lyrics are great, John.
hope you'll get them to music sometime and play it for us.
 

I wrote this for Theme Music’s celebrity theme. A few lines in the verses need some work and the bridge needs to be rewritten. Can anyone help me edit this?
 
I also put this in the "Other instruments" thread



The Marijuana Farmer

One summer I tried growing marijuana
In a garden behind my home
A perfect spot for growing pot I thought
I had everything I’d need


I used the kids toy box for a planter
Filled it with dirt seed and water
Got a grow light and knew I might
Soon be smoking primo weed

I moved the plants out to the garden
And added some manure
I got from a cow, don’t ask how
But I’m sure it would grow good grass

Then the garden caught on fire
Everything burned right to the ground
I think someone poured gas on my grass
Cause they were jealous of my stash

But somehow it all grew back
The corn, the beans, and peas
Shot up and I was pleased
And the Mary Jane grew as tall as ever did in my dreams


The plants grew taller than the corn
That was supposed to camouflage them
They towered but never flowered.
I picked ‘em any way

Time to light up the pipe
And take the first toke
Might as well had been smokin’ rope
All that time and effort I found out why they called it dope.

Did I try to grow pot again? Nope.
 
There is a bluebird in my heart... another take with different instrumentation.
Music to a Charles Bukowski poem.
 




Santa Claus Beard

I want a Santa Claus (I) beard
It’s what I (V) really want to grow
It’ll be (V7) white as the snow
Not one that (I) you can buy from Sears

(pause)

I want a bright red (I) suit
With a lot of fur (V) trim on the collar and hat
Don’t want to (V7) look too thin or fat
And I need a pair of (I) big black boots

And by the (IV) way, I want a sleigh
That is (I) pulled by (IV) eight rein(I)deer
We’ll (vi) fly around on Christmas Day
All (V) because I have a beard (pause)


I want a Santa Claus (I) laugh
When little kids (V) see me on the street
They’ll want to (V7) come up and meet
And (I) get my autograph

(pause)

They’ll tell me their (I) name
And that they’ve been (V) good good good good
Like their mommy and their daddy and their teacher said they
(I) Should should should should

(IV) When I appear in public
(I) Every (IV) one will (I) cheer
For the (iv) whiskers that volunteered
To (V) grow on my face and be, a Santa Claus beard

(IV) And as I grow much older
And (I) look back (IV) through the (I) years
I’ll (ii) be glad I never shaved and (V) grew (pause)
A Santa Claus (I) beard
 
I am old enough to remember Presidential candidates having commercials with songs, and or jingles. "I like Ike" promoted Eisenhower in the 50's. "High Hopes" sung by Frank Sinatra was the song for JFK. I'm hoping that President Trump will consider this for his re-election campaign. This tune would commemorate his courageous actions against ruthless, criminal, rapist immigrant children.

1 8 7 7 bars for kids
B-A-R-S bars for kids
1 8 7 7 bars for kids
Help cage a kid today
 


I’m playing a set of 1980s songs at an arcade next weekend. Of course I had to learn this.
 
Splendid story.
You may not be alone.
I suggest property closer to a turkey farm.

I also put this in the "Other instruments" thread



The Marijuana Farmer

One summer I tried growing marijuana
In a garden behind my home
A perfect spot for growing pot I thought
I had everything I’d need


I used the kids toy box for a planter
Filled it with dirt seed and water
Got a grow light and knew I might
Soon be smoking primo weed

I moved the plants out to the garden
And added some manure
I got from a cow, don’t ask how
But I’m sure it would grow good grass

Then the garden caught on fire
Everything burned right to the ground
I think someone poured gas on my grass
Cause they were jealous of my stash

But somehow it all grew back
The corn, the beans, and peas
Shot up and I was pleased
And the Mary Jane grew as tall as ever did in my dreams


The plants grew taller than the corn
That was supposed to camouflage them
They towered but never flowered.
I picked ‘em any way

Time to light up the pipe
And take the first toke
Might as well had been smokin’ rope
All that time and effort I found out why they called it dope.

Did I try to grow pot again? Nope.
 


I started writing this song in 2014. I thinks it's just about finished. My voice is in rough shape today but someone in another forum asked me to put up a recording of it.
 
My mother passed away this week at the age of 94. We had a big party for her 90th birthday, and a day or two before the party, one of my brothers asked me to write a song for the occasion. The song I came up with ended up being more about bringing the family together to celebrate her than about her herself. But it's been going through my head all week. The music for the verse keeps switching between A and A minor.



Lyrics:

This tree was planted before my time
But I have watched the branches climb
With every generation higher
As new leaves reach out for the sun
They're lifted up by everyone
The family entire

No one did this thing alone
The weight was borne, the tree has grown
And we can rest now in the shade
And spend the day with Jane

The roots that hold us up are strong
The work of those in ages gone
In numbers without measure
From roots to the canopy above
Surrounded here by those we love
We all can share together

No one did this thing alone
The weight was borne, the tree has grown
And we can rest now in the shade
And spend the day with Jane
 
a song I wrote in 2015.
I recorded it the other day using my new baritone ukulele.
 
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