Zondag 6 oktober 1974
The Greatest Man I Never Knew
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The Greatest Man I Never Knew
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Zondag 6 oktober 1974
People Such As These
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
Zondag 6 oktober 1974
Fortune Teller
Fortune Teller
Performer(s): Bobby Curtola
Went to the fortune teller
To have my fortune read
I didn't what to tell her
I had a dizzy feeling in my head
Said she'd take a look at my palm
Said "Son do you feel kind of warm?"
And she looked into her crystal ball
Said "You're in love"
Said it could not be so
Not with all the girls I know
Said when the next one arrives
Looking into her eyes
I left there in a hurry
Much to my big surprise
The next thing I discovered
The fortune teller told me lies
So I ran back to that woman
Mad as I could be
Told her I didn't see nobody
How she made a fool out of me
At last something shook me
As if it came down from above
And now the fortune teller
And I fell in love
Zaterdag 5 oktober 1974
The Greatest Love Of All
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
Zaterdag 5 oktober 1974
Dat Soort Volk
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
Zaterdag 5 oktober 1974
Fortune In Dreams
Fortune In Dreams
Composer(s): Karl Raymond; Hal Stanley
Performer(s): Kay Starr
I've got a fortune
A fortune in dreams
That's how I measure
My treasure of schemes
I'm never poor
If I can pretend
I wouldn't take a million
For the dreams that I spend
With only daydreams to keep me at night
I get along and I'm doin' alright
I haven't got a bankful
But I'm thankful to say
I've got a fortune in dreams put away
I've got a fortune in dreams
I've got a fortune
A fortune in dreams
That's how I measure
My treasure of schemes
I'm never poor
Not if I can pretend
And I wouldn't take a million
For the dreams that I spend
With only daydreams to keep me at night
I get along and I'm doin' alright
I've leaned to love the
Things in life that money can't buy
That's why I see the sun
And not the clouds up in the sky
I haven't got a bankful
But I'm thankful to say
I've got a fortune in dreams put away
I've got a fortune in dreams!
Vrijdag 4 oktober 1974
Greatest
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!"
Vrijdag 4 oktober 1974
Ces Gens-Là
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'œil 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
Vrijdag 4 oktober 1974
Fortunate Son
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
Donderdag 3 oktober 1974
Great White Buffalo
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...
Donderdag 3 oktober 1974
Ik Leef Niet Meer Voor Jou
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
Donderdag 3 oktober 1974
Fortuna
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!!!
Woensdag 2 oktober 1974
Great Song Of Indifference
Great Song Of Indifference
Composer(s): Bob Geldof
Performer(s): Bob Geldof; Brendan Keeley
I don't mind if you go
I don't mind if you take it slow
I don't mind if you say yes or no
I don't mind at all
I don't care if you live or die
Couldn't care less if you laugh or cry
I don't mind if you crash or fly
I don't mind at all
I don't mind if you come or go
I don't mind if you say no
Couldn't care less baby let it flow
'Cause I don't care at all
Na na na,...
I don't care if you sink or swim
Lock me out or let me in
Where I'm going or where I've been
I don't mind at all
I don't mind if the government falls
Implements more futile laws
I don't care if the nation stalls
And I don't care at all
I don't care if they tear down trees
I don't feel the hotter breeze
Sink in dust in dying sees
And I don't care at all
Na na na,...
I don't mind if culture crumbles
I don't mind if religion stumbles
I can't hear the speakers mumble
And I don't mind at all
I don't care if the Third World fries
It's hotter there I'm not surprised
Baby I can watch whole nations die
And I don't care at all
I don't mind I don't mind I don't mind I don't mind
I don't mind I don't mind
I don't mind at all
Na na na,...
I don't mind about people's fears
Authority no longer hears
Send a social engineer
And I don't mind at all
Woensdag 2 oktober 1974
Cervo A Primavera
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
Woensdag 2 oktober 1974
Fortress Around Your Heart
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
Dinsdag 1 oktober 1974
The Great Smoke Off
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"
Dinsdag 1 oktober 1974
Certified
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
Dinsdag 1 oktober 1974
Fortissimo
Fortissimo
Composer(s): Bruno Canfora; A. Wertmueller
Performer(s): Rita Pavone;
and various other artists
Pianissimo
Te lo dico pianissimo
Questo piccolo ciao
Sottovoce
Così nessuno capira'niente
E tu solamente tu capirai
Quanto sono innamorata di te
Pianissimo
Devo dirlo pianissimo
Questo piccolo ciao
Mi dispiace
Doverti dire solo ciao
Mentre in mezzo alla gente
Vorrei gridare
Fortissimo
Che ti amo
Fortissimo
Che ti ami di più
D'ogni cosa
Al mondo amore
Amo te...
Maandag 30 september 1974
The Great Rock Island Route
The Great Rock Island Route
Composer(s): J.A. Roff
From a rocky bound Atlantic, to a mild Pacific shore
From a fair and sunny southland to an ice-bound Labrador
There's a name of magic import and 'tis known the world throughout
'Tis a mighty corporation, called the great Rock Island Route
Now listen to the jingle, and the rumble, and the roar
As she dashes thro' the woodland, and speeds along the shore
See the mighty rushing engine, hear her merry bell ring out
As they speed along in safety, on the "Great Rock Island Route"
All great cities of importance can be found along its way
There's Chicago and Peoria and Rock Island so they say
With Davenport, and westward still is Council Bluffs far out
As a western termination of this Great Rock Island Route
To the great southwest another, and a mighty line they run
Reaching far famed Kansas City, Leavenworth and Atchison
Rich in beauty, power, and grandeur, and they owe it all no doubt
To the fact that they are stations, on the Great Rock Island Route
There's the "Northern Route," a daisy as you all can plainly see
To St. Paul, and Minneapolis, 'tis the famous "Albert Lea"
To the lakes of Minnesota, and all points there 'round about
Reached directly by no other, than the "Great Rock Island Route"
Now let music soft and tender, in its mystic power reveal
Praises to the "Great Rock Island," that the heart can only feel
And to swell the mighty chorus--comes the glad re-echoing shout
That for safety, time and comfort, take the "Great Rock Island Route"
Now listen to the jingle, and the rumble, and the roar
As she dashes thro' the woodland, and speeds along the shore
See the mighty rushing engine, hear her merry bell ring out
As they speed along in safety, on the "Great Rock Island Route"
Maandag 30 september 1974
Takin' It To The Streets
