It was nineteen hundred and thirty five
And hardly a man is still alive
Who remembers that fateful day and year
When Gee Eff Hunter had his first beer
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Now I lay me down to dream
Know I’ll wake up to a scream.
I have nightmares all the time
Funny that they’re all in rhyme.
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Time to feed Biscuit, the dog.
He’s as happy as a frog on a log.
He likes Atta Boy the best
Over all of the rest.
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I was eating in a diner
Yesterday at noon
Having a bowl of soup
And as I raised my spoon
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It’s said that there are no atheists in foxholes
And that soldiers all pray not to die
But they don’t really believe that lie
That prayer alone will keep them from perdition.
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There was a young lady
From Frisco Bay
Who could never think of
Anything new to say.
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Love that rain
Upon the pane.
Great big drops
Good for crops.
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I had just finished lunch
And on a hunch
Thought I’d check the mail
So I hit the trail
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I didn’t have an evil thought up my sleeve
‘Cause I loved that gal like you wouldn’t believe.
Said she got nothin’ and she wanted more
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Some lyricist once wrote
“I want to melt the
Starlight in your eyes.”
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