Any TOM LEHRER fans around these parts?

I've loved Lehrer's musical satire since I first heard Dr. Demento play him in the early '80s. (OK, I was two decades late, but I wasn't even born until a year after Lehrer's last album came out!)

Ever since I heard his Perodic Table Song, I became a fan of his. I have "The Remains of Tom Lehrer" and I listen to it quite a bit.

Have been since he was a writer for "That Was The Week That Was"

I have many of his songs committed to memory. :)

I have "That Was The Year That Was", and "Songs and More Songs by Tom Lehrer" (a double album that has extra versions of a couple of tunes.)

"...Pollution, pollution
There's smog and sewage and mud
Turn on your tap
And get hot and cold running crud
Pollution, pollution
You canl use the latest toothpaste
And rinse out your mouth
With industrial waste..."

from "Send the Marines:

For might makes right,
and till they've seen the light,
they've got to be protected,
all their rights respected,
till somebody we like can be elected.

My older brother had his albums. I listened to them when he wasn't around.

"In the evening, you will see him
around the neighborhood,
It's the old dope peddler,
spreading joy by do-oh-ing good."

I didn't even understand them, and I still laughed.

...'discovered' him on Dr. Demento. These are the lyrics to my favorite song:

Masochism Tango

I ache for the touch of your lips, dear,
But much more for the touch of your whips, dear.
You can raise welts
Like nobody else,
As we dance to the Masochism Tango.

Let our love be a flame, not an ember,
Say it's me that you want to dismember.
Blacken my eye,
Set fire to my tie,
As we dance to the Masochism Tango.

At your command
Before you here I stand,
My heart is in my hand...
Yeech!
It's here that I must be.

My heart entreats,
Just hear those savage beats,
And go put on your cleats
And come and trample me.

Your heart is hard as stone or mahogany,
That's why I'm in such exquisite agony.
My soul is on fire,
It's aflame with desire,
Which is why I perspire when we tango.

You caught my nose
In your left castanet, love,
I can feel the pain yet, love,
Ev'ry time I hear drums.

And I envy the rose
That you held in your teeth, love,
With the thorns underneath, love,
Sticking into your gums.

Your eyes cast a spell that bewitches.
The last time I needed twenty stitches
To sew up the gash
That you made with your lash,
As we danced to the Masochism Tango.

Bash in my brain,
And make me scream with pain,
Then kick me once again,
And say we'll never part.

I know too well
I'm underneath your spell,
So, darling, if you smell
Something burning, it's my heart...
'Scuse me!

Take your cigarette from its holder,
And burn your initials in my shoulder.
Fracture my spine,
And swear that you're mine,
As we dance to the Masochism Tango.

I pulled up Musicmatch and I'm listening to "The Hunting Song"

I can't help it. :)

(emphasis mine)

Hunting Song

I always will remember,
t'was a year ago, November.
I went out to hunt some deer,
on a morning bright and clear.
I went and shot the maximum the game laws would allow.
Two game wardens, seven hunters, and a cow.

I was in no mood to trifle
I took down my trusty rifle
and went out to stalk my prey;
what a haul I made that day.
I tied them to my fender,
and I drove them home somehow;
Two game wardens, seven hunters, and a cow.

The law was very firm, it
took away my permit,
The worst punishment I ever endured.
It turned out there was a reason, cows were out of season,
and one of the hunters wasn't insured.

People ask me how I do it,
and I say there's nothing to it.
You just stand there looking cute
and when something moves, you shoot.
And there's ten stuffed heads in my trophy room right now
Two game wardens, seven hunters, and a cow.

Yes, the law was very firm, it
took away my permit,
The worst punishment I ever endured.
It turned out there was a reason, cows were out of season,
and one of the hunters wasn't insured.

People ask me how I do it,
and I say there's nothing to it.
You just stand there looking cute
and when something moves, you shoot.
And there's ten stuffed heads in my trophy room right now
Two game wardens, seven hunters, and a pure-bred Guernsey cow.

When you attend a funeral,
It is sad to think that sooner or'l
Later those you love will do the same for you.
And you may have thought it tragic,
Not to mention other adjec-
Tives, to think of all the weeping they will do.
(But don't you worry.)

No more ashes, no more sackcloth,
And an arm band made of black cloth
Will some day nevermore adorn a sleeve.
For if the bomb that drops on you
Gets your friends and neighbors too,
There'll be nobody left behind to grieve.

And we will all go together when we go.
What a comforting fact that is to know.
Universal bereavement,
An inspiring achievement,
Yes, we will all go together when we go.

We will all go together when we go.
All suffused with an incandescent glow.
No one will have the endurance
To collect on his insurance,
Lloyd's of London will be loaded when they go.

Oh we will all fry together when we fry.
We'll be french fried potatoes by and by.
There will be no more misery
When the world is our rotisserie,
Yes, we will all fry together when we fry.

Down by the old maelstrom,
There'll be a storm before the calm.

And we will all bake together when we bake.
There'll be nobody present at the wake.
With complete participation
In that grand incineration,
Nearly three billion hunks of well-done steak.

Oh we will all char together when we char.
And let there be no moaning of the bar.
Just sing out a Te Deum
When you see that I.C.B.M.,*
And the party will be come-as-you-are.

Oh, we will all burn together when we burn.
There'll be no need to stand and wait your turn.
When it's time for the fallout
And Saint Peter calls us all out,
We'll just drop our agendas and adjourn.

You will all go directly to your respective Valhallas.
Go directly, do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollahs.
Every Hottentot and every Eskimo.
And we will all go together when we go.

When the air becomes uranious,
We will all go simultaneous.
Yes, we all will go together
When we all go together,
Yes we all will go together when we go.

But much more for the touch of your whips, Dear.
You can raise welts
Like nobody else,
As we dance to the Masochism Tango.



Oh crap! Somebody beat me to it. :(

..a few months ago. I think Politics in the Arts was the topic. A college music professor mentioned Lehrer. TWTWTW was one of my favorite shows. Way ahead of it's time.

My fav... The Vatican Rag.

allow me to give you the lyrics.

Another big news story of year concerned the ecumenical council in Rome, known as Vatican II. Among the things they did in an attempt to make the church more commercial was to introduce the vernacular into portions of the mass, to replace Latin, and to widen somewhat the range of music permissible in the liturgy, but I feel that if they really want to sell the product, in this secular age, what they ought to do is to redo some of the liturgical music in popular song forms. I have a modest example here. It's called The Vatican Rag.

First you get down on your knees,
Fiddle with your rosaries,
Bow your head with great respect,
And genuflect, genuflect, genuflect!

Do whatever steps you want, if
You have cleared them with the Pontiff.
Everybody say his own
Kyrie eleison,
Doin' the Vatican Rag.

Get in line in that processional,
Step into that small confessional,
There, the guy who's got religion'll
Tell you if your sin's original.
If it is, try playin' it safer,
Drink the wine and chew the wafer,
Two, four, six, eight,
Time to transubstantiate!

So get down upon your knees,
Fiddle with your rosaries,
Bow your head with great respect,
And genuflect, genuflect, genuflect!

Make a cross on your abdomen,
When in Rome do like a Roman,
Ave Maria,
Gee it's good to see ya,
Gettin' ecstatic an'
Sorta dramatic an'
Doin' the Vatican Rag!

fiddle with your rosaries, bow your head in great respect and genuflect, genuflect, genuflect.

An absolute classic. We listened to my parents albums growing up and I just in the last few years have purchased them on CDs. Even my kids think he is funny.

Was that recorded or done live? I'd stand in a long line for chance to buy it on DVD.

...and Yes, Vatican Rag is available, too.

www.laugh.com is a great resource for classic comedy albums...and plenty of new stuff too, CDs and DVDs.

album he recorded in 1953 (the original with Poisoning pigeons in the park, the old dope peddler, and many others).

My favorite song has already been posted in this thread (The Masochism Tango) so I'll put forth my other favorite...

"The Elements"

There's antimony, arsenic, aluminum, selenium,
And hydrogen and oxygen and nitrogen and rhenium,
And nickel, neodymium, neptunium, germanium,
And iron, americium, ruthenium, uranium,
Europium, zirconium, lutetium, vanadium,
And lanthanum and osmium and astatine and radium,
And gold and protactinium and indium and gallium, (gasp)
And iodine and thorium and thulium and thallium.

There's yttrium, ytterbium, actinium, rubidium,
And boron, gadolinium, niobium, iridium,
And strontium and silicon and silver and samarium,
And bismuth, bromine, lithium, beryllium, and barium.

Isn't that interesting?
I knew you would.
I hope you're all taking notes, because there's going to be a short quiz next period...

There's holmium and helium and hafnium and erbium,
And phosphorus and francium and fluorine and terbium,
And manganese and mercury, molybdenum, magnesium,
Dysprosium and scandium and cerium and cesium.
And lead, praseodymium and platinum, plutonium,
Palladium, promethium, potassium, polonium,
And tantalum, technetium, titanium, tellurium, (gasp)
And cadmium and calcium and chromium and curium.

There's sulfur, californium and fermium, berkelium,
And also mendelevium, einsteinium, nobelium,
And argon, krypton, neon, radon, xenon, zinc and rhodium,
And chlorine, carbon, cobalt, copper, tungsten, tin and sodium.

These are the only ones of which the news has come to Hahvard,
And there may be many others but they haven't been discahvered.

Oh, and here's a nifty Flash version someone did: www.privatehand.com/flash/elements.html

...thought it was brilliant!

Of course, the song raises the question: How many chem students have used this song as a mnemonic device? I know if I was studying chemisty I 'd consider it. :)

nowadays, even my horrible chem teacher last year showed it, my awesome one this year did too.

Seems to me that is the right wing anthem.

DBDB

One week of every year is designated National Brotherhood Week. This is just one of many such weeks honoring various worthy causes. One of my favorites is National Make-fun-of-the-handicapped Week which Frank Fontaine and Jerry Lewis are in charge of as you know. During National Brotherhood Week various special events are arranged to drive home the message of brotherhood. This year, for example, on the first day of the week Malcolm X was killed which gives you an idea of how effective the whole thing is. I'm sure we all agree that we ought to love one another and I know there are people in the world that do not love their fellow human beings and I hate people like that. Here's a song about National Brotherhood Week.

Oh, the white folks hate the black folks,
And the black folks hate the white folks.
To hate all but the right folks
Is an old established rule.

But during National Brotherhood Week, National Brotherhood Week,
Lena Horne and Sheriff Clarke are dancing cheek to cheek.
It's fun to eulogize
The people you despise,
As long as you don't let 'em in your school.

Oh, the poor folks hate the rich folks,
And the rich folks hate the poor folks.
All of my folks hate all of your folks,
It's American as apple pie.

But during National Brotherhood Week, National Brotherhood Week,
New Yorkers love the Puerto Ricans 'cause it's very chic.
Step up and shake the hand
Of someone you can't stand.
You can tolerate him if you try.

Oh, the Protestants hate the Catholics,
And the Catholics hate the Protestants,
And the Hindus hate the Moslems,
And everybody hates the Jews.

But during National Brotherhood Week, National Brotherhood Week,
It's National Everyone-smile-at-one-another-hood Week.
Be nice to people who
Are inferior to you.
It's only for a week, so have no fear.
Be grateful that it doesn't last all year!

...and always fun to listen to.

I've been a fan since I first listened to his stuff when I was
a kid.

Spring is here, a-suh-puh-ring is here.
Life is skittles and life is beer.
I think the loveliest time of the year is the spring.
I do, don't you? 'Course you do.
But there's one thing that makes spring complete for me,
And makes every Sunday a treat for me.

All the world seems in tune
On a spring afternoon,
When we're poisoning pigeons in the park.
Every Sunday you'll see
My sweetheart and me,
As we poison the pigeons in the park.

When they see us coming, the birdies all try an' hide,
But they still go for peanuts when coated with cyanide.
The sun's shining bright,
Everything seems all right,
When we're poisoning pigeons in the park.

We've gained notoriety,
And caused much anxiety
In the Audubon Society
With our games.
They call it impiety
And lack of propriety,
And quite a variety
Of unpleasant names.
But it's not against any religion
To want to dispose of a pigeon.

So if Sunday you're free,
Why don't you come with me,
And we'll poison the pigeons in the park.
And maybe we'll do
In a squirrel* or two,
While we're poisoning pigeons in the park.

We'll murder them all amid laughter and merriment,
Except for the few we take home to experiment.
My pulse will be quickenin'
With each drop of strych'nine
We feed to a pigeon.
(It just takes a smidgin!)
To poison a pigeon in the park.

And one whose sentiments I share completely.

Favorite ones were "The Irish Ballad" and something about a guy and his dead wife (Tom was years ahead of Robyn Hitchcock).

My dad had a bunch of his records. Probably one of my earliest musical memories.

Is it any wonder I'm so twisted?

"The Irish Ballard"
About a maid I'll sing a song,
Sing rickety-tickety-tin,
About a maid I'll sing a song,
Who didn't have her fam'ly long.
Not only did she do them wrong,
She did ev'ryone of them in, them in,
She did ev'ryone of them in.

One morning in a fit of pique,
Sing rickety-tickety-tin,
One morning in a fit of pique,
She drowned her father in the creek.
The water tasted bad for a week,
And we had to make do with gin, with gin,
We had to make do with gin.

Her mother she could never stand,
Sing rickety-tickety-tin,
Her mother she could never stand,
And so a cyanide soup she planned.
The mother died with a spoon in her hand,
And her face in a hideous grin, a grin,
Her face in a hideous grin.

She set her sister's hair on fire,
a-Rickety-tickety-tin,
She set her sister's hair on fire,
And as the smoke and flame rose high'r,
Danced around the funeral pyre,
Playin' a violin, -olin,
Playin' a violin.

She weighted her brother down with stones,
a-Rickety-tickety-tin,
She weighted her brother down with stones,
And sent him off to Davy Jones.
All they ever found were some bones,
And occasional pieces of skin, of skin,
Occasional pieces of skin.

One day when she had nothing to do,
Sing rickety-tickety-tin,
One day when she had nothing to do,
She cut her baby brother in two,
And served him up as an Irish stew,
And invited the neighbors in, -bors in,
Invited the neighbors in.

And when at last the police came by,
Sing rickety-tickety-tin,
And when at last the police came by,
Her little pranks she did not deny.
To do so she would have had to lie,
And lying, she knew, was a sin, a sin,
Lying, she knew, was a sin.

My tragic tale I won't prolong,
Rickety-tickety-tin,
My tragic tale I won't prolong,
And if you do not enjoy my song,
You've yourselves to blame if it's too long,
You should never have let me begin, begin,
You should never have let me begin.






and.....

"Hold Your Hand in Mine....."
One more love song. I generally like to include at least one or two love songs in the evening's program, partly perhaps to convince people that even at the Harvard University Graduate School, that hotbed of celibacy that I used to call home, we did have our moments. This one is a tender ballad entitled simply I Hold Your Hand In Mine.

I hold your hand in mine, dear,
I press it to my lips.
I take a healthy bite
From your dainty fingertips.

My joy would be complete, dear,
If you were only here,
But still I keep your hand
As a precious souvenir.

The night you died I cut it off,
I really don't know why.
For now each time I kiss it
I get bloodstains on my tie.

I'm sorry now I killed you,
For our love was something fine,
And till they come to get me
I shall hold your hand in mine.

Those are it!

when his high school glee club did a PDQ Bach song at their holiday concert (well, several members, anyway!). I figured, he'll have them do The Christmas Song the next year around. Boy, was I right.

My nephew ended up at Harvard, including the Men's Glee Club, then Harvard Medical School. He's now a radiologist doing his internship.

Go figure.

"...let the raucous sleigh bells jingle,
Hail our dear old friend Kris Kringle,
Driving his reindeer across the sky...
Don't stand underneath when they fly by!"

:evilgrin:

Big fans of Tom Lehrer in my household.

If you like Lehrer, check out Flanders & Swann.

Not as political, but very literate and wickedly funny Brits.

Like you, I wasn't even born until after his last album came out, but I think he's HYSTERICALLY funny!

:P

GENUFLECT, GENUFLECT, GENUFLECT!"

Surprised no one's brought up "Wehrner von Braun," yet.
John
And, as a Catholic, I memorized "The Vatican Rag" when I was ten or so. Still knocks 'em dead in the aisles.

"Mr. Lehrer's muse is not fettered by such inhibiting factors as taste." :eyes:

:)

What they were probably so uptight about was this song -- a tune near and dear to my heart.

SMUT

Smut!
Give me smut and nothing but!
A dirty novel I can't shut,
If it's uncut,
and unsubt-le.

I've never quibbled
If it was ribald,
I would devour where others merely nibbled.
As the judge remarked the day that he
acquitted my Aunt Hortense,
"To be smut
It must be ut-
-terly without redeeming social importance."

Por-
-nographic pictures I adore.
Indecent magazines galore,
I like them more
If they're hard core.

(Bring on the obscene movies, murals, postcards, neckties,
samplers, stained-glass windows, tattoos, anything!
More, more, I'm still not satisfied!)

Stories of tortures
Used by debauchers,
Lurid, licentious, and vile,
Make me smile.
Novels that pander
To my taste for candor
Give me a pleasure sublime.
(Let's face it, I love slime.)

All books can be indecent books
Though recent books are bolder,
For filth (I'm glad to say) is in
the mind of the beholder.
When correctly viewed,
Everything is lewd.
(I could tell you things about Peter Pan,
And the Wizard of Oz, there's a dirty old man!)

I thrill
To any book like Fanny Hill,
And I suppose I always will,
If it is swill
And really fil-thy.

Who needs a hobby like tennis or philately?
I've got a hobby: rereading Lady Chatterley.
But now they're trying to take it all
away from us unless
We take a stand, and hand in hand
we fight for freedom of the press.
In other words,

Smut! (I love it)
Ah, the adventures of a slut.
Oh, I'm a market they can't glut,
I don't know what
Compares with smut.

Hip hip hooray!
Let's hear it for the Supreme Court!
Don't let them take it away!
==============================================================

Hmmmmmm...it suddenly occurs to me at this late date...wouldn't posting all these lyrics in full be a huge copyright issue?

"Poisoning Pidgeons In The Park" is one of my all-time sick favorites.

".....and maybe we'll do in a SQUIRREL or two......"