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à la

by Mitch Friedman

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HURRY-UP MIRIAM! (à la a Broadway musical opening number) Hurry-Up Miriam, hurry up! Time is short and she is on the go Hurry-Up Miriam, hurry up! When compared to her we're moving much, much too slow Hurry-Up Miriam, hurry up! Don't look now, she is on the run Hurry-Up Miriam, hurry up! Just as we get started, she’s already done She's a whirlwind, she's a blur We cannot keep up with her She is frantic, she is speedy Are we winded? Yes indeedy! She is lightning, she is quick Can anybody stop this chick? She is rapid, meteoric If she slows we'll be euphoric! Hurry-Up Miriam, hurry up! Everything she does is in a rush Hurry-Up Miriam, hurry up! No one else has ever gotten Usain Bolt to blush Hurry-Up Miriam, hurry up! Watch her make a list and check it thrice Hurry-Up Miriam, hurry up! Hyperventilating is her favorite vice “Get a move on! There's no time to waste!” Why does she do everything in such a haste? As a girl she had to clean her room just to get supper Before Bounty, she was the quicker picker-upper In her teens she dreamed to wear a beauty contest winner's sash When that failed instead she ruled at winning the forty-yard dash After being voted “The Most Likely to Succeed” she succeeded quickly then won “Most Likely to Speed” Miriam, what are you running from? “Ucch, I’m busy!” Everyone should stop and smell the roses Miriam, “Again?” Life is a marathon “Since when?” Pace yourself to reach the end and on the way you’ll make new friends “Hmm . . . You’ve said your piece I’ve heard your view Now I just need to think it through The trouble is that thanks to you I’ve got another thing to do!” Miriam, no! “I gotta go!” Oh . . . Hurry-Up Miriam, hurry up! She’s the fastest faster on Yom Kippur Hurry-Up Miriam, hurry up! While everyone just whines and moans, she gets super chipper Miriam moves faster than a flesh-eating bacterium Miriam sends every cocaine dealer to delirium Miriam makes Run-Around Sue just stop and sneer-iam Miriam, in a split-second goes from far to near-iam Miriam is gone before you hold her beer-iam Miriam covers more space than a planetarium Hurry-Up Miriam, hurry up! She's the quickest gal in all the land Hurry-Up Miriam, hurry up! Do not try to high-five her or you might break your hand Hurry-Up Miriam, hurry up! Somehow she is never out of breath Hurry-Up Miriam, hurry up! We think she’ll have vigor mortis right after her death Hurry-Up Miriam, hurry up “I am!” Hurry-Up Miriam, hurry up “Hello?” Hurry-Up Miriam, hurry up “All right already!” Hurry-Up Miriam, hurry up! “Oy”
SCRAPING BY (à la Drink Me) I had a mansion on Easy Street Now coppers knock on my box on their beat I, I, I’m just scraping by, by, by Life as a blue blood once suited me These days I’m donating pints for a fee I, I, I’m just scraping by, by, by Brother, mother, other can you spare a dime? Don’t make me take it from you It would be a crime Punching a clock is a big monkey wrench Try catching z’s when you sleep on a bench I, I, I’m just scraping by, by, by Never imagined for me to thrive I’d stake my good fortune on a dumpster dive I, I, I’m just scraping by, by, by Brother, mother, other can you lend a hand? One day you might eat just beans after you get canned Used to have dough coming out the wazoo Now I’m a loafer with holes in my shoes I, I, I’m just scraping by, by, by So don’t get complacent or too comfortable Before you know your net worth could be null I, I, I’m just scraping by, by, by Why, why, why? I’m just scraping by Bye-bye
NOT YET (à la Gilbert O'Sullivan) My child behind me sure likes to remind me that I promised him a pet I can’t shake the drama and all of the trauma when we had that marmoset How much longer will it be? Well that’s a question for mommy Not yet Not yet Did the iPad help him to forget? Not yet With rains this torrential there is some potential for an existential threat Now I’m feeling manic Think of the Titanic! I pray that my panic’s all wet The end is always on the way Say, do we have an E.T. A.? Not yet Not yet Is it time to vet the parapet? Not yet To those who wait good things could come Lord knows your fate recommends you just stay mum A beautiful Russian has got me blushin’ What is the etiquette? I’ll require vodka to try and snog her I’m breaking out in a cold sweat Her maybe isn’t quite a yes but I will deem it more or less Not nyet Not nyet I cannot dismiss miss soviet Not yet
YOU MIGHT BE TRUE (à la Nick Lowe) In a world where others are not even bothered pulling wool over our eyes they'll knit up a story but omit a sorry Sincerity's a disguise Yet you seem authentic and not egocentric in the face all of this flies I cannot help but surmise You might be true Oh You might be true You might be true Oh please be Anything else would just tease me As I get less younger there grows a hunger to find somebody to love My capacity for lust is battling more rust each time I'm "none of the above" But you exude kindness, it's so rare to find this I need to know what you are made of Get set to release the doves You might be true Oh You might be true You might be true Oh please be Nothing would more please me The head knows what the heart wants and both dislike an ache This time there is so much at stake It might seem pathetic, and somewhat athletic how I tie myself into knots But since you hooked me and not overlooked me emotions have been calling the shots I'm helpless to resist when I am in your midst like a puppy or a robot This better not be ersatz You might be true Oh You might be true You might be true Oh please be Speak up, I'm getting uneasy While the jury is still out, I better chill out or risk starting over again
DEEPLY IN LOVE (à la Al Alberts) From the moment I rise ’til I close my eyes I think of my gal The strength of our bond goes way beyond fond Together forever, we shall When I see her face I am instantly beaming Somebody pinch me, I gotta be dreaming Everyone, everyone listen to me I’m deeply in love Can’t you all see there’s a glisten to me? I’m deeply in love A heaping helping of bliss in my glee I’m deeply in love! Just feast your eyes on my sweet honey bun There will be no doubting why she is the one Each day I feel blessed to be so obsessed with my cutie pie When she holds my hand everything’s grand and I happily sigh I’m over the moon in delightful desire Singing along with my angelic choir Everyone, everyone listen to me I’m deeply in love It’s how I get hugs and kissin’ for free I’m deeply in love Please let me have this for eternity I’m deeply in love!
PURPLE BURT (à la Syd Barrett) Purple Burt eats green beans orange porridge and red bread Purple Burt drinks blue juice wears pink mink and black slacks Purple Burt smokes hope dope His brain is a kaleidoscope Purple Burt is color blind, Purple Burt's invisible I'm Purple Burt, you're Purple Burt I'm . . . Purple Burt rides the side of a rainbow He's got one-zillion color TVs Purple Burt dreams of skiing Pluto as he naps in a prism tree Purple Burt stays alert by eating lots of purple dirt Purple Burt is color blind, Purple Burt's invisible I'm Purple Burt, you're Purple Burt Purple Burt has a brother, Purple Herbert Herbert lives in a tin of herbal sherbet He spends his days slurping and burping Purple Burt drives to work on his snapping turtle named Kurt He keeps gasses sealed in glasses All of these are inert Purple Burt can't exert His little purple heart is hurt Purple Burt is color blind, Purple Burt's invisible I'm Purple Burt, you're Purple Burt I'm Purple Burt
NINE MILE ROAD (à la Richard Thompson) Meet me at the crux of the nine mile road on your feet of callouses Come let us walk 'mongst the croaking of toads under clouds like palaces Our love was lost but a long time ago Poison words and circumstance These days the cost is more than you know to decline such fine romance The nine mile road is our lifeline home The nine mile road is a thorny rose Until we laugh, until we grow meet me at the nine mile road Nine mile road, bring us round again
IS LOVE THERE? (à la Burt Bacharach) I went to San Francisco in the summertime and all I found was chilly fog and lonely hearts If all you need is in the air like oxygen then what's this crazy little thing called that stinks? So is love there? Where is love, where? You'll find some in that actress Hewitt's middle name Connect with it on Chuck Woolery's TV game Add a 'g' and enter baseball's Hall of Fame This silly song is getting lame I took a radar roller coaster to a jungle shack The only thing for keeping was a boat for sale So is love there? (It was but it's not) Where is love, where? (It's not where it was) They say the look of it is in your eyes (two times) But you're just drunk on potion #9 (on the rocks)
I HAVE NEVER LIED (à la They Might Be Giants) I have never lied to anyone that kind of thing is done by liars I have never lied to anyone that was my brother who yelled "Fire!" Everything I've ever said is true Especially all the things I said to you If I ever lied to anyone I would know because I'm honest I have never cried to anyone that kind of thing is done by babies I have never cried to anyone no matter how absorbent they be Every tear I'll ever shed, I'd hide This is really easy when you stay inside If I ever cried to anyone I would laugh because I'm lying I swear to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God but I'm left-handed I will never side with anyone that kind of thing is done by losers I will never side with anyone who said that beggars can't be choosers? All opinions people have are wrong except, of course, the ones that you hear in this song If I ever side with anyone it's because I cleaned my mirror I will never die for anyone that kind of thing is done by people I will never die for anyone just to eat dirt beneath a steeple Every minute I'm alive will be a new chance to hear my name read on TV If I ever die for anyone they had better take full credit
OFTEN I SAUNTER (à la Martin Newell) In the rush, rush, rush of the day see the push and the crush of the people parade Riding cars, bikes, buses and trains through the Mach V circus of Ringmaster Fray They've no time to clown In the hush, hush, hush of the night near the plush of the pillow and the shush of polite Fighting slapstick happenstance dreams with a keystone 'copter cropping the scenes It's time they slow down So often I saunter for want of a better way Often I saunter about . . . About 1 pm, adjoin to them a gent with a gradual gait They buzz and blur but I prefer simply to perambulate A slow-motion potentate About 1 am, en route to REM as masses and watches unwind They snore and stir but next to her I'm utterly calm and supine An otter aloft in brine It is such, such, such a short life We are specs of dust in eternity's eyes With so much, much, much far and wide watch us brush, brush, brush every detail aside They don't see my frown So often I saunter for want of a better way Often I saunter about . . .
THE SPY (à la John Barry) He knows what he wants and he knows how to get it He knows when to take it and why to hold back He moves like a panther into the shadows Waits, always ready for secret attack He is the author of my follies and despair He deals the hand, I play the cards His breath upon my neck, I lose my mind, I lose the game When I turn around there's no one there The Spy and so am I She knows what she needs and who can provide it She knows where to target her ravenous search Beware of her eyes that shoot poison daggers straight from her secret aerial perch She is the trigger of my dark euphoria She dangles facts, I'm tantalized Her thoughts surround my head, I lose my way, I lose my train What fine phantasmagoria The Spy and so am I Our mission can't be classified, we each share half the truth Weapons drawn, curtains follow in a haze of sweet vermouth We know what they want and we know they won't get it Threat or flirtation, we'll never talk For our information is secret and priceless to agents from London and spies from New York The Spy and so am I
SPRING (IS WAITING FOR A CHANCE TO) SPRING (à la Jonathan Richman) Something in the air says the winter's ending People start to come outside looking for some friending Daylight's saving up extra time to do its thing Spring is waiting for a chance to spring Seeds are getting set now the snow is melting Baseball batters swing, hoping for some belting Buds are popping up, lovers get set for a fling Spring is waiting for a chance to spring The sun is trying but the clouds won't let it If trees could make a breeze you bet those clouds would regret it Heavy coats are gone, girls show off their legging Birds are starting to chirp now as they do their egging Bees can hardly wait to find someone they can sting Spring is waiting for a chance to spring Bears are waking up from their hibernating Fishermen can't wait to begin their baiting Ice cream trucks tune up practicing their ding-a-ling Spring is waiting for a chance to Spring is waiting for a chance to Spring is waiting for a chance to spring
WHAT GOES AROUND COMES AROUND (à la Wreckless Eric) When I was a little kid I could not tell right from wrong Never questioned what I did Even brought my friends along What goes around comes around As a teen, things headed south Like a fool I fought the law Got kicked from school for my mouth They're gonna learn that this is war What goes around comes around I will take what's rightly mine even if you think it's yours To be denied would be a crime I play the game to settle scores What goes around comes around I am bad at being good I am good at being bad If you think I can be tamed you had better think again You're the one that will be blamed when we reach the bitter end What goes around comes around
IT WON'T BE LONG NOW (à la Mose Allison) I was born with primo genes which make my bottom and top clean What goes up must come down but only one end wears a frown Hair today and gone tomorrow I'll keep giving you some skin Heading for happiness, not sorrow Bald is how we all begin So shield your eyes while I take a bow It won't be long now Telly, Mr. Clean, and Yul used their shiny, skin-smooth tool to coax the women through their doors for hot romance and cleaner floors The gentle egg sits there in the shade It had no problem getting laid Look at Gandhi and Sinead The masses say they got it made and neither of them had a cow It won't be long now Minoxidil is nearly nil Rugs and weaves are worser still Transplants you can just forget my skull is not some Chia Pet No need to spray, cut, style or primp No colorings or permanents Throw brushes, combs, and driers out A lesser man would sit and pout We'd all be better off this way All people white, black, yellow or gray would be more similar today So shave it off now, don't delay! Barbers are barbarians, cutting off looks right to them Some surgery they used to do so count your ears, there should be two There's plenty more in other places Some is pubic, some is public The stuff that grows out of my face is such a nag I keep it stubbly So comb it back from your brow It won't be long now Even Buddha got you ta’ vow and kowtow It won't be long now
NOT THE PROPER SPOT (à la Sparks) Right here is not the proper spot to pick your nose I didn't think I'd need to tell you Then again, it's just as well I did Not the proper spot to pick your nose There is no upshot to doing something so gross Right here is not the proper spot to clip your toes Manners seem to not concern you It's best if we all just spurn your id Society is trusting you to not be thrusting everything disgusting on it you desire I hate to inform you there are social norms to follow and conform to or become pariah Right here is not the proper spot to pimp your hoes Does it really need a mention? Do you want attention from those kids? Not the proper spot to pimp your hoes You have not learned squat about what we oppose Right here is not the proper spot to strip your clothes Don't you see the signs we've posted? We will all be skeeved out, keep it hid Society is praying you won't be displaying all of your dismaying inappropriateness If you had awareness you'd know the unfairness of subjecting our squareness to mental unfitness Right here is not the proper spot to come to blows I wouldn't want my friends to see me stoop down to your level, god forbid


Songs in the style of . . .


released March 15, 2022

***Bonus tracks, all previously released

All songs written by Mitch Friedman, except The Spy (Jude Cowan/Mitch Friedman)

Mitch Friedman – all voices and noises, except . . .

You Might Be True – Big Al Davies (piano, organ), James Parry (bass, electric guitar, guitar solo)
Nine Mile Road – Marty Laster (fiddle)
Often I Saunter – John Dunbar (bass, 6 and 12-string acoustic guitars, electric guitar)
The Spy – Jude Cowan (lead vocals, tenor ukulele)
Not the Proper Spot – Big Al Davies (cellos, string plucks, brass, harp, harpsichord, bell, timpani, backing vocals)

Produced, recorded, and mixed by Mitch Friedman at Do-Re-Meech
Graphic design by MF

© 2022 Mitch Friedman


all rights reserved



Mitch Friedman New York, New York

One-man band purveyor of quirky pop in a variety of styles, some made up.

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