Retro-Songteksten: Evergreens, Classics, Old-Time Favourites, Hits Uit Onze Jeugd
Dit blog (met dank aan seniorennet) is enkel voor NIET-commerciële doeleinden. Alle songteksten zijn uitsluitend eigendom van hun respectievelijke copyright eigenaars; dus ga de muziek kopen die je mooi vindt, zo steun je de artiest.
NON-profit, non-commercial blog, to help preserve the songs of our youth; hence for entertainment only. All lyrics are the copyright of their respective owners; you are encouraged to go buy their music.
The Greatest Mistake Of My Life Composer(s): James Netson Performer(s): Sam Browne with Ambrose & his Orch. and multiple other artists
The greatest mistake of my life Was saying goodbye to you I'm alone and blue and believe it's true I pray you may forgive someday I'm sorry I want you to know But if there's a debt I owe I feel that I have paid and know that I have made The greatest mistake of my life
Ces Mots Stupides
((Adapted from: Something Stupid (Carson and Gaile) - 1967))
Composer(s): C. Carson Parks - Maurice Tézé
Performer(s): Sacha Distel & Joanna Shimkus - 1967
and multiple other artists
Versions In Other Languages:
1967 - Qualche Stupido "Ti Amo" (Sacha Distel & Joanna Shimkus)
1967 - Dat Afgezaagde Zinnetje (Willy & Willeke Alberti)
1967 - En Lille Dumhed (Siw Malmkvist & Otto Brandenburg)
1971 - Algo Tonto (Enríque Guzmn & Silvia Pinal)
2003 - Een Dom Compliment (Jo Vally & Vanessa Chinitor)
2003 - Zoiets Onnozels (Willy Sommers, Lisa Del Bo & Luc Steeno)
Je sais que tôt ou tard Tu voudras bien sortir un soir En camarade, avec moi J'essaierai d'être gai Pour te faire rire, mais je sais Que je ne verrais que toi! Et quand nous serons las d'avoir dansé Nous irons prendre un dernier verre, quand même C'est là que je gâcherai tout... En te Disant ces mots stupides "Je t'aime!" Et dans tes yeux je lirai Que j'ai trahi notre amitié Que je suis comme les autres! Bien vite je m'en irai Sans même te dire que si je t'aime Ce n'est pas de ma faute! Cela fait si longtemps Que je suis là, le cur battant A ne plus penser qu'à toi! A guetter ton regard En espérant toujours y voir Un peu de tendresse pour moi! Mais... si à cet instant Très doucement je sens ta main Se poser sur le mienne... De joie, je crois, je pleurerai En répétant ces mots stupides "Je t'aime!" Mais... si à cet instant Très doucement, je sens ta main Se poser sur la mienne... De joie, je crois, je pleurerai En répétant ces mots stupides "Je t'aime! Je t'aime! Je t'aime!"
Fortuosity Composer(s): Richard M. Sherman; Robert B. Sherman Performer(s): Tommy Steele; and various other artists
Well now, ain't this an elegant neighborhood All the residents dressed so fine One day off the boat am I With a job that's nearly mine 'Tis a job with an elegant millionaire And his elegant family Today I move from immigrant to high society Now you may call that luck And you may call it fortune, But me, meself, I call it.....
Fortuosity, that's me byword Fortuosity, me twinkle in the eye word Sometimes castles fall to the ground But that's where four leaf clovers are found
Fortuosity, lucky chances Fortuitious little happy happen-stances I don't worry 'cause everywhere I see That every bit of life is lit by Fortuosity
Fortuosity, that's me own word Fortuosity, me never feel alone word `Round the corner, under a tree Good fortune's waitin', just wait and see
Fortuosity, lucky chances Fortuitious little happy happen-stances I keep smilin', 'cause my philosophy Is do your best and leave the rest to Fortuosity
I keep smilin', 'cause my philosophy Is do your best and leave the rest to Fortuosity!
The Greatest Man I Never Knew Composer(s): Richard Leigh - Layng Martine Jr. Performer(s): Benny Neyman & Toni Willé
The greatest man I never knew Lived just down the hall And everyday we said hello But never touched at all He was in his paper I was in my room How was I to know He thought I hung the moon
The greatest man I never knew Came home late every night He never had too much to say Too much was on his mind I never really knew him And now it seems so sad Everything he gave to us Took all he had
Then the days turned to years And the memories to black and white He grew cold like an old winter wind Blowing across my life
The greatest words I never heard I guess Ill never hear The man I thought could never die s Been dead almost a year He was good at business There was business left to do He never said he loved me Guess he thought I knew
People Such As These
((Adapted from: Ces Gens-Là (Jacques Brel) - 1966))
Composer(s): Jacques Brel - Fabien Passant - Bruno Bouchegnies - Lydia Ruddy
Performer(s): The Walkabouts - 2001
Versions In Other Languages:
1969 - Dat Soort Volk (Liesbeth List)
1970 - Dit Slag Volk (Herman van Veen)
1971 - Che Bella Gente (Giorgio Gaber)
2002 - Quelli Là (Duilio Del Prete)
To begin, to begin, there is the first born He who is like a melon He who has a big nose He who doesn't know his name Because he drinks a lot And he's been drunk-- for a long time Does nothing with ten fingers He can do no more than that Completely cooked Sees himself as king Drunk every night On rotgut wine But you'll find him in the morning Sleeping in a church Stiff as a board White like the dove of Easter Sitting and stuttering Bleary eyed It must be said, sir People such as these We do not think We do not think We only pray
And then there is another With carrots in his hair Who never saw a wig a scamp with ticks Gives the shirt off his back To the happy poor He who married Denise A girl from the town Actually from another town And it's not finished
He does his little business With his little hat His little coat, his little car Wants us to believe, he has style But he has none at all We shouldn't play rich When we don't have the money It must be said, sir People such as these We don't live, sir We don't live, we trick
And then there are the others The mother who says nothing Or spews, anything at all From evening to morning From beneath her pretty face Face like an apostle And in the wood frame The mustache of the father He who died in a fall He who watches his flock Graze on their cold soup He who makes big slurrps And now we see one of the very old
One who doesn't stop shaking To whom nobody listens Though it's she who holds the cash But nobody listens To what her poor poor hands say It must be said, sir People such as these We don't speak, sir People such as these We just calculate
And then and then And then there's Frida Beautiful like the sun Who loves me the same Who I love, Frida Even though we often said We would own a house With many windows And few walls That we would live there And it'd be the good life Of course none of it was sure thing At best there was a small chance Because the others didn't want it 'Cause the others didn't want it The others they talk like this They say she's too pretty for me They say I am only good enough To slit the throats of cats But I've never killed cats Or at least if I did, it was long ago Or maybe I just forgot Yes, if I did, it's because they stunk No, in the end they didn't want it No, in the end they didn't want it
Sometimes when we meet We act like it's a coincidence And with teary eyes She says she'll leave She says she'll follow me And for one moment Only one moment That's what I believe Just for one moment That's what I believe Because from people such as these We do not escape Because from people such as these We do not escape I gotta go, I gotta go I gotta go
The Greatest Love Of All Composer(s): Michael Masser - Linda Creed First release by: George Benson - 1977 Covered by multiple other artists
I believe the children are our future Teach them well and let them lead the way Show them all the beauty they posses inside Give them a sense of pride to make it easier Let the children's laughter remind us how we used to be
Everybody seaching for a hero People need someone to look up to I never found anyone who fulfilled my needs A lonely place to be, so I learned to depend on me
I decided long ago never to walk in anyone's shadow If I failed, if I succeed, at least I lived as I believed No matter what they take from me they can't take away my dignity
Because the greatest Love of all is happening to me I found the greatest love of all inside of me
The greatest love of all Is easy to achieve learning to love yourself it is the greatest love of all
And if by chance that special place that you've been dreaming of Leads you to a lonely place find you strength
Dat Soort Volk ((aka Dit Slag Volk ((Herman van Veen) - 1970)) ((Adapted from: Ces Gens-Là (Jacques Brel) - 1966)) Composer(s): Jacques Brel - Ernst van Altena Performer(s): Liesbeth List - 1969
Versions In Other Languages: 1971 - Che Bella Gente (Giorgio Gaber) 2001 - People Such As These (The Walkabouts) 2002 - Quelli Là (Duilio Del Prete)
Je hebt je hebt de oudste broer Zo'n vale, kale vent Stom als een mallemoer Die z'n eigen naam niet kent Die drinkt zoveel, meneer En die is zo vaak lam Dat 'ie zo ongeveer Niet ene moer meer kan Hij is volslagen maf Maar vindt zichzelf een heer Hij is elke avond zat Van wijn als kattepis En 's morgens zit 'ie mat Te maffen in de mis Stijf als een eiken bint Als 'n altaarkaars zo geel Hij stottert als een kind En hij is ook nog scheel Zeg nou zelf, meneer Dat soort volk, meneer Denkt niet na, meneer Dat denkt niet na Dat bidt
En dan die andere broer: Z'n peenhaar heeft misschien Nog nooit een kam gezien En hij 's vals als een hoer Al geeft 'ie de armen dan De hemden van z'n gat Hij is getrouwd met An Zo'n meisje uit de stad Nou ja een andere stad Maar da's hem niet genoeg Hij scharrelt heel wat af Met actetas en das Dophoed en winterjas In z'n opgepoetste Daf Hij doet graag reuze sjiek Maar is het voor geen cent: Nou, als je 'n stuiver bent Speel dan niet voor een piek! Zeg nou zelf, meneer Dat soort volk, meneer Leeft niet echt, meneer Dat leeft niet echt Dat knoeit
En dan de rest van 't stel: De moeder die stom lacht Of raaskalt als de hel Daarboven dag en nacht Besnord, bebaard, verstard Papa's vergeeld portret Hij stierf aan een zwak hart Bij 'n vreemde vrouw in bed Nu kijkt hij hoe z'n schaar Slurpt van de koude pap Dat gaat daar dan van schlppp Dat gaat daar dan van schlppp En die stokouwe vrouw Die altijd trilt en beeft Ze denken: sterf maar gauw Omdat zij centen heeft Ze zijn niet eens meer stil Als zij wat zeggen wil Zeg nou zelf, meneer Dat soort volk, meneer Praat nooit echt, meneer Dat praat nooit echt Dat telt
En dan en dan en dan is er nog Jan Blij als een lentewei En hij houdt echt van mij Zoals ik hou van Jan En Jan zegt vaak: ik zal Een huis gaan bouwen, meid Met ramen overal En kamers, groot en wijd Daarin ga ik met jou Fijn wonen, zal je zien En al is 't nog niet gauw Het komt toch wel misschien Want de anderen willen 't niet De anderen willen 't niet Die zeggen strijk en zet: Jan is te goed voor jou: Ze vinden mij maar net Een kattemeppersvrouw 'k Heb nooit een kat gevild Of 't moet lang geleden zijn Of 'k had het niet gewild Maar 't beest stonk naar azijn Nou ja, ze willen 't niet Nou ja, ze willen 't niet
Als wij elkaar soms zien (Da's dan geen toeval hoor!) Dan zegt Jan: Meid, misschien Gaan wij er wel vandoor! Dan zegt 'ie: ik loop weg En dan heel eventjes Heel eventjes maar hoor Geloof ik wat hij zegt Meneer, heel eventjes Heel eventjes maar hoor Want weet u, dat soort volk, meneer Dat loopt niet weg Dat loopt niet weg, meneer Dat loopt niet weg
Maar 't wordt al laat, meneer En ik moet echt naar huis
Greatest Composer(s): Don Schlitz Performer(s): Kenny Rogers
Little boy, in a baseball hat stands in the field with his ball and bat Says, "I am the greatest player of them all" puts his bat on his shoulder and he tosses up his ball And the ball goes up and the ball comes down swings his bat all the way around The world so still you can hear the sound, the baseball falls to the ground
Now the little boy doesn't say a word, picks up his ball, he is undeterred Says, "I am the greatest there has ever been" and he grits his teeth and he tries it again And the ball goes up and the ball comes down swings his bat all the way around The world so still you can hear the sound, the baseball falls to the ground
He makes no excuses, he shows no fear, he just closes his eyes and listens to the cheers
Little boy, he adjusts his hat, picks up his ball, stares at his bat Says, "I am the greatest, the game is on the line" and he gives his all one more time And the ball goes up and the moon so bright, swings his bat with all his might The world's as still, as still can be, the baseball falls and that's strike three
Now it's suppertime and his momma calls, little boy starts home with his bat and ball Says, "I am the greatest, that is a fact, but even I didn't know I could pitch like that!" Says, "I am the greatest, that is understood, but even I didn't know I could pitch that good!"
Ces Gens-Là
Composer(s): Jacques Brel
First release by: Jacques Brel - 1966
Covered by multiple other artists
Versions In Other Languages:
1969 - Dat Soort Volk (Liesbeth List)
1970 - Dit Slag Volk (Herman van Veen)
1971 - Che Bella Gente (Giorgio Gaber)
2001 - People Such As These (The Walkabouts)
2002 - Quelli Là (Duilio Del Prete)
D'abord il y a l'aîné Lui qui est comme un melon Lui qui a un gros nez Lui qui sait plus son nom Monsieur tellement qui boit Ou tellement qu'il a bu Qui fait rien de ses dix doigts Mais lui qui n'en peut plus Lui qui est complètement cuit Et qui se prend pour le roi Qui se saoule toutes les nuits Avec du mauvais vin Mais qu'on retrouve matin Dans l'église qui roupille Raide comme une saillie Blanc comme un cierge de Pâques Et puis qui balbutie Et qui a l'il qui divague Faut vous dire Monsieur Que chez ces gens-là On ne pense pas Monsieur On ne pense pas on prie
Et puis, il y a l'autre Des carottes dans les cheveux Qu'a jamais vu un peigne Ouest méchant comme une teigne Même qu'il donnerait sa chemise A des pauvres gens heureux Qui a marié la Denise Une fille de la ville Enfin d'une autre ville Et que c'est pas fini Qui fait ses petites affaires Avec son petit chapeau Avec son petit manteau Avec sa petite auto Qu'aimerait bien avoir l'air Mais qui n'a pas l'air du tout Faut pas jouer les riches Quand on n'a pas le sou Faut vous dire Monsieur Que chez ces gens-là On ne vit pas Monsieur On ne vit pas on triche
Et puis, il y a les autres La mère qui ne dit rien Ou bien n'importe quoi Et du soir au matin Sous sa belle gueule d'apôtre Et dans son cadre en bois Il y a la moustache du père Qui est mort d'une glissade Et qui recarde son troupeau Bouffer la soupe froide Et ça fait des grands flchss Et ça fait des grands flchss Et puis il y a la toute vieille Qu'en finit pas de vibrer Et qu'on attend qu'elle crève Vu que c'est elle qu'a l'oseille Et qu'on écoute même pas Ce que ses pauvres mains racontent Faut vous dire Monsieur Que chez ces gens-là On ne cause pas Monsieur On ne cause pas on compte
Et puis et puis Et puis il y a Frida Qui est belle comme un soleil Et qui m'aime pareil Que moi j'aime Frida Même qu'on se dit souvent Qu'on aura une maison Avec des tas de fenêtres Avec presque pas de murs Et qu'on vivra dedans Et qu'il fera bon y être Et que si c'est pas sûr C'est quand même peut-être Parce que les autres veulent pas Parce que les autres veulent pas Les autres ils disent comme ça Qu'elle est trop belle pour moi Que je suis tout juste bon A égorger les chats J'ai jamais tué de chats Ou alors y a longtemps Ou bien j'ai oublié Ou ils sentaient pas bon Enfin ils ne veulent pas Parfois quand on se voit Semblant que c'est pas exprès Avec ses yeux mouillants Elle dit qu'elle partira Elle dit qu'elle me suivra Alors pour un instant Pour un instant seulement Alors moi je la crois Monsieur Pour un instant Pour un instant seulement Parce que chez ces gens-là Monsieur on ne s'en va pas On ne s'en va pas Monsieur On ne s'en va pas Mais il est tard Monsieur Il faut que je rentre chez moi
Fortunate Son French Title: Fils De Personne Composer(s): John C. Fogerty Performer(s): Creedence Clearwater Revival
Some folks are born to wave the flag Ooh, they're red, white and blue And when the band plays "Hail to the chief" Ooh, they point the cannon at you, Lord
It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no senator's son, son It ain't me, it ain't me; I ain't no fortunate one, no Yeah!
Some folks are born silver spoon in hand Lord, don't they help themselves, oh But when the taxman comes to the door Lord, the house looks like a rummage sale, yes
It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no millionaire's son, no It ain't me, it ain't me; I ain't no fortunate one, no
Some folks inherit star spangled eyes Ooh, they send you down to war, Lord And when you ask them, "How much should we give? "Ooh, they only answer more! more! more! yoh
It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no military son, son It ain't me, it ain't me; I ain't no fortunate one, one It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no fortunate one, no, no, no It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no fortunate son, no, no, no
Great White Buffalo Composer(s): Ted Nugent Performer(s): Ted Nugent
Well, listen everybody to what I got to say There's hope for tomorrow Ooh, we're workin' on today Well, it happened long time ago in the new magic land The Indian and the buffalo they existed hand in hand... The Indian needed food he needed skins for a roof But he only took what they needed, baby Millions of buffalo were the proof Yeah, it's all right But then came the white man with his thick and empty head He couldn't see past the billfold he wanted all the buffalo dead It was sad... It was sad Oh yeah... yes indeed Oh yes it happened a long time ago, baby In the new magic land See, the Indian and the buffalo they existed hand in hand The Indians, they needed some food and some skins for a roof They only took what they needed, baby millions of buffalo were the proof, yeah But then came the white dogs with their thick and empty heads They couldn't see past the billfold they wanted all the buffalo dead Everything was so sad When I looked above the canyon wall some strong eyes did I see I think it's somebody comin' around to save my ass, baby I think... I think he's comin' around to save you and me Boys... I said, above the canyon wall... strong eyes did glow It was the leader of the land, baby Oh My God The Great White Buffalo... Look Out!!!! Look Out!!!!!!! Well, he got the battered herd He led 'em cross the land With the Great White Buffalo they gonna make a final stand The Great White Buffalo comin' around to make a final stand Well, look out here he comes The great white buffalo, baby The Great White Buffalo... Look out, here he comes He's doin' all right Makin' everything all right Yeah, yeah, yeah...
Ik Leef Niet Meer Voor Jou
((Adapted from: Cervo A Primavera (Riccardo Cocciante) - 1980))
Composer(s): Riccardo Cocciante - Mogol - Leo Driessen - Han Kooreneef
Performer(s): Marco Borsato - 1995
Ik leef niet meer voor jou Voorbij zijn alle jaren Waarin ik heb geloofd Dat wij gelukkig waren En nu het leven weer van mij is Mijn hart sinds lange tijd weer vrij is Ben ik zo blij dat het voorbij is, oh oh
Ik leef niet meer voor jou Je hoeft niet te proberen Om hier te blijven staan En mij te domineren Ik heb teveel moeten verduren Ik heb genoeg van al je kuren Dus is het tijd je weg te sturen oh oh oh oh oh
Ik leef niet meer voor jou Ik leef niet meer voor jou Voorbij zijn alle nachten Dat ik hier heel alleen Op jou heb zitten wachten Je hebt me keihard voorgelogen Besodemieterd en bedrogen Dus droog de tranen in je ogen Ik leef niet meer voor jou
Je hebt me keihard voorgelogen Besodemieterd en bedrogen Dus droog de tranen in je ogen Ik leef niet meer voor jou
Dus donder nou maar op Ik kan er niet meer tegen En als je weg wilt gaan Is dat alleen een zegen Te vaak heb jij mij laten zakken Ik heb genoeg van al je makken Je moet gewoon je spullen pakken ah ah ah nee ik leef niet meer voor jou
`T is voorbij Ja voorbij Voor jou Voor mij `T is voorbij
Fortuna Composer(s): Renato Zero; P. Pintucci Performer(s): Renato Zero
Di troppo amore s'impazzisce se mai... Se mai d'amore ti ubriacherai ...Ride il demonio delle tue virtù se scopre che a letto, il demonio sei tu Come mai, godi e poi...scompari? La verità, in una sporca bugia volevi il corpo e non la mente mia! Anche il coraggio ti può dire di no... Io, un'abitudine, no! Un'abitudine, no! Io finirei...fra i sensi tuoi, mi perderei!!! Lasciami qui! Lasciami qui! Lasciami qui! Lasciami ai voli miei! ...Aspetterò, aspetterò, aspetterò... finché tu dirai no! No, a chi di vivere ha paura! No, a chi amerà una volta sola! Fortuna, c'era atmosfera! Fortuna, fu una pazzia... Fortuna! Fortuna, io ci credevo! ...E mentre nascevo, io stavo morendo ma non mi arrendevo! Porta via il tempo, tutto quello che sa... Quel po' di orgoglio, la mia volontà... Catene d'oro ai desideri che ho per ritrovare un uomo o la sua ombra, non so! Come mai, mi maledici e poi, rimani! Lasciami qui! Lasciami qui! Lasciami qui! Lascia che sia così! Aspetterò, aspetterò, aspetterò... finché tu dirai, no! No! Se non conosci i sentimenti... No! Se mi regali i tuoi rimpianti! Fortuna è ridere ancora, mentre tu, te ne vai... Fortuna! Fortuna? Quale Fortuna!?!? Tenersi le mani, e giurare che poi saremmo arrivati a domani!!! Lasciami qui! Lasciami qui! Magari è giusto così!!! Un'abitudine, no! Un'abitudine, no!!! Fortuna, che tu eri vera... Fortuna...fu una pazzia... Fortuna! Sicuro! Sicuro!!! Io resterò ancora in piedi: lo giuro!!! Fortuna!!!
Cervo A Primavera
((Dutch Version: Ik Leef Niet Meer Voor Jou (Marco Borsato) - 1995))
Composer(s): Riccardo Cocciante - Mogol
First release by: Riccardo Cocciante - 1980
E io rinascerò cervo a primavera oppure diverrò gabbiano da scogliera senza più niente da scordare senza domande più da fare con uno spazio da occupare
E io rinascerò amico che mi sai capire e mi trasformerò in qualcuno che non può più fallire una pernice di montagna che vola eppur non sogna in una foglia o una castagna
E io rinascerò amico caro amico mio e mi ritroverò con penne e piume senza io senza paura di cadere intento solo a volteggiare come un eterno migratore
E io rinascerò senza complessi e frustrazioni amico mio ascolterò le sinfonie delle stagioni con un mio ruolo definito così felice di esser nato tra cielo terra e l'infinito
Fortress Around Your Heart Composer(s): Sting Performer(s): Sting; Evening Star Orch.; The London Symphony Orch.; Spectrum
Under the ruins of a walled city Crumbling towers and beams of yellow light No flags of truce, no cries of pity The siege guns had been pounding all through the night It took a day to build the city We walked through its streets in the afternoon As I returned across the field's I'd known I recognized the walls that I once made I had to stop in my tracks for fear Of walking on the mines I'd laid
And if I built this fortress around your heart Encircled you in trenches and barbed wire Then let me build a bridge For I cannot fill the chasm And let me set the battlements on fire
Then I went off to fight some battle That I'd invented inside my head Away so long for years and years You probably thought or even wished that I was dead While the armies are all sleeping Beneath the tattered flag we'd made I had to stop in my track for fear Of walking on the mines I'd laid
And if I built this fortress around your heart Encircled you in trenches and barbed wire Then let me build a bridge For I cannot fill the chasm And let me set the battlements on fire
This prison has now become your home A sentence you seem prepared to pay It took a day to build the city We walked through its streets in the afternoon As I returned across the fields where I'd once played I had to stop in my tracks for fear Of walking on the mines I'd laid
And if I built this fortress around your heart Encircled you in trenches and barbed wire Then let me build a bridge For I cannot fill the chasm And let me set the battlements on fire
The Great Smoke Off Composer(s): Shel Silverstein Performer(s): Shel Silverstein
Now in the laid back California town of sunny San Rafael Lived a girl named Pearly Sweetcake you probably knew her well She was stoned fifteen of her eighteen years And her story was widely told That she could smoke em faster than anyone could roll
Well her legend finally reached New York that grove street walk up flat Where dwelt the Calistoga Kid a beatnik from the past He'd been rolling dope since time began Now took a cultured poke and said Jim I can roll em faster than any chick can smoke
So a note gets sent to San Rafael for the championship of the world The kid demands a smoke off Well bring him on says Pearl I'll grind his fingers of his hands He'll roll until he drops Says Calistoga I'll smoke that chick till blows up and pops
So they rent out Yankee Stadium and the word is quickly spread Come one come all who walk or crawl Tickets just two lids a head And from every town and hamlet Over land and sea they speed The worlds greatest dopers with the worlds greatest weed
Hasishes from Marocco, hemp smokers from Peru And the Schasnicks from Bagon Who smoke the deadly pugaru And those who call it light of life And those that call it boo
See the dealers and their ladies Wearing turquoise lace and leather See the narcos and the closet smokers puffin all together From the teenies who smoke legal to the ones who've done some time To the old man who smoked reefer back before it was a crime
And the grand old house that Ruff built is filled with the smokes and cries of fifty screaming heads all stoned out of their minds And they play the national anthem and the crowd lets out a roar as the spotlight hits the Kid and pearl ready for their smoking war
At a table piled high with grass as high as a mountain peak just top and buds of the rarest flowers not one stem branch or seed I mean a mowie a wowie a Panama red Acapulco gold, keef from east Afghanistan and that rare Alaska cold and there's sticks from Thiland,games from the island and Bangkok's blooming best and some of that wet imported shit that capsized of Key west There's wahokin pops and Kenya burn, and Reverie flors and that rare Manhattan silver that grows down the New York sewers
And there's bubbling ice cold lemonade and sweet grapes by the bunches and there's Hershey bars and Orios in case anybody gets the munches And the calastoga kid he smiles and Pearly she just grins And the drums roll low, and the crowd yells go go go and the worlds first smoke off begins
Well the kid he flicks his fingers once sot that first joint's rolled Pearl takes one poke with her famous lungs and whoosh that roach is cold Then the kid he rolls his super bomb that would paralyze a moose and Pearl takes one mighty hip, that bombs defused And then he rolls three in just ten seconds and she smokes them up in nine And everybody sits back and says hey this just might take some time
See the blur of fling fingers see the red coal burning bright As the night turns into morning and the morning fades to night And the autumn turns to summer and a whole damn year is gone and the two still sit on that roach filled stage smoking and Rollin' with trembling hands he rolls his jays with fingers blue and stiff she coughs, and stares with blood shot gaze and puffs through blistered lips
And as she reaches out her hand for another stick of gold The Kid he gasps, "Goddamn it, bitch there's nothing' left to roll" "Nothin' left to roll?" screams Pearl "Is this some twisted joke?" "I didn't come here to fuck around, man "I come here to Smoke!" And she reaches 'cross the table and she grabs his bony sleeves And she crumbles his body between her hands like dried and brittle leaves Flicking' out his teeth and bones like useless stems and seeds Then she rolls him in a Zig Zag and lights him like a roach And the fastest man with the fastest hands goes up in a puff of smoke
In the laid-back California town of sunny San Rafael Lives a girl named Pearley Sweetcake you probably know her well She's been stoned twenty-one of her twenty-four years and the story's widely told How she still can smoke them faster
than anyone can roll
While off in New York City
on a street that has no name
There's the hands of The Calistoga Kid
in the Viper Hall of Fame
And underneath his fingers
there's a little golden scroll
That says
"Beware of Bein' the Roller
When There's Nothin' Left to Roll"
Certified Composer(s): Stuart Brower - Walter Ferguson - David James - Gary Talley Performer(s): James Cotton
Down in the yard tryin' to fix my ride Busted my knuckles and I went inside Just made it worse I tried to fix up my hand I aint much of a medicine man Alot of things that i wanna do That don't work out the way I want 'em to One thing that I do just right When it comes to love I'm certified
Yes I got my degree Doctor of love I got a PHD If you some kind of lovin' that you never tried Come to me I'm certified
Out on the job and the bossman yell Here we go again, I'm gonna catch some hell He say if you screw up one more time You'll be in the unemployment line Alot of jobs that I can do Even more I never too One place I know I'm qualified When I comes to love I'm certified
Yes I got my degree Doctor of love I got a PHD If you some kind of lovin' that you never tried Come to me I'm certified
Nothin come easy and you know that's a fact Workin for the man about to break my back 5 o'clock and the whistle blow I'm the first on out the do' You can bet I'll be headed home Don't wanna leave my woman alone One thing she says that I do just right When it come to love I'm certified
Yes I got my degree Doctor of love I got a PHD If you some kind of lovin' that you never tried I'm certified
