"I was in no mood to trifle, I took down my trusty rifle ..."

It's the official "Post your favorite Tom Lehrer song" thread.

I'll start with ...

The Hunting Song

I always will remember,
'Twas 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 nothin' to it,
You just stand there lookin' 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.

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... (yeechh)
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
Every 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
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
(hiccup) 'Scuse me

Take your cigarette from it's holder
And burn your initials in my shoulder
Fracture my spine
And swear that you're mine
As we dance to The Masochism Tango

Another big news story of the 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!


The best part is that, at least in the live version I have, there's a woman in the audience who is in absolute hysterics throughout the song; I bet she needed a mop.

I've mercifully been spared any religious inculcation past the age of six, so frustration against religion just doesn't resonate as much as it does for others.

That was a truly brilliant bit of ridicule, though...

What's great about Lehrer is that he used the proper forms to best lampoon the issues at hand. To use ragtime to thump on such rigidity as Catholicism is truly inspired.

Love that song.

Whenever Kindness Fails
Robert Earl Keen, Jr.

I crossed the desert on a dining car
In the spring of ninety-one
I met some people drinking at the bar
They were laughing having fun
I told 'em that I hadn't heard the joke
That was so hilarious
They said that I was just a dumb cowpoke
I didn't want to make a fuss

CHORUS:
So I shot 'em down
One by one
Then I left 'em 'long the rails
I use my gun
Whenever kindness fails

The moon was in the sign of Scorpio
The sun was at my back
I didn't know how far the train would go
Until the law would find my track
I saw the brakeman and the engineer
Drinking wine and eating brie
I asked 'em who would brake and who would steer
They started pointing back at me

So I shot 'em down
One by one
Then I left 'em 'long the rails
I use my gun
Whenever kindness fails


I only have a moment to explain
Just a chance to let you know
When it's time for you to board the train
There are two ways you can go
You can ride the wheels into the sun
Feel the wind upon your face
Or you can laugh into a loaded gun
And you'll likely loose your place

So I shot 'em down
One by one
Then I left 'em 'long the rails
I use my gun
Whenever kindness fails

When I use my gun
That lonesome whistle wails

The Irish Ballad, because the word "occasional" is perfect here.

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 family long
Not only did she do them wrong
She did every one of them in, them in
She did every one 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 the spoon in her hand
And her face in a hideous grin, a grin
And her face in a hideous grin.

She weighted her brother down with stones
Sing rickety tickety tin
She weighted her brother down with stones
And sent him off to Davey Jones
All they ever found were some bones
And occasional pieces of skin, of skin
And occasional pieces of skin.

She set her sister's hair on fire
Sing rickety tickety tin
She set her sister's hair on fire
And as the smoke and flame rose higher
Danced around the funeral pyre
Playing a violin, olin
Playing a violin.

One day she had nothing to do
Sing rickety tickety tin
One day 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
And lying she knew was a sin.

And just one thing before I go
Sing rickety tickety tin
And just one thing before I go
There's something I think that you ought to know
They had no proof, so they let her go
And they say that she's tall and thin, and thin
They say that she's tall and thin.

My tragic tale I won't prolong
Sing rickety tickety tin
My tragic tale I won't prolong
I hope you lile my little song
You've yourself to blame if it's too long
You should never have let me begin, begin
You should never have let me begin.


And "The Elements", set to the tune of "I am the very model of a modern major-general", is pure genius.