Dang Me

[thebes]

Extra warm day today brings my geriatric mind back to childhood days of playing kick the can , running up and down a short city street with friends in tow. Snatches of songs flying out the rolled down windows of passing cars like the flickering of fireflys. Loved those old AM tunes. Number 33 on the charts this week, and soon forgotten for the next one down the pike. Strange thing about those old hits, though, they crop up in the fore-brain from time-to-time. Sitting on the back porch tonight, and there it was:

Well here I sit high, gettin' ideas

Ain't nothing but a fool would live like this

Out all night and runnin' wild

Woman sittin' home with a month old child



CHORUS:

Dang me, dang me

They oughta take a rope and hang me

High from the highest tree

Woman would you weep for me.



Just sittin' around drinkin' with the rest of the guys

Six rounds bought, and I bought five

Spent the half the groceries and all the rent

Like fourteen dollars having twenty seven cents.



(CHORUS)



Roses are red and violets are purple

Sugar is sweet and so is maple surple

I was the seventh out of seven sons

My pappy was a pistol

I'm a son of a gun.



(CHORUS)

[BEC]

Dang you...I think that is "Spent the groceries and half the rent"

[Dennie]

What is "AM" Radio? [^o)]

Dennie

[thebes]

Dang you...I think that is "Spent the groceries and half the rent"

Oh no you don't Bob! Not going to drag me into one of those "Kissed This Guy" lyric fights.

No sireee, blessed with perfect memory I've never flubbed a the lyrics to a song while singing along.

"Tie me Kangaroo Down Mate" is a great example. I know all the lines.

[BEC]

Yeah, but you don't know who you are dealing with here. I spun that record the day it arrived back in '64 on the "Bob Crites Nightime Show" KXRJ 1490 AM Russellville, Arksansas.

[Marvel]

Roger MIller had some of the greatest lyrics. The juxtaposition of sad lyrics with happy/funny music just made for a weird take on the subject.

Bruce

[colterphoto1]

You can't roller skate in a buffalo herd.

[Audio Flynn]

Yourmusic.com had a Roger Miller box set I neglected to purchase in a timley manner and now it is out of stock.

My dad liked Roger Miller's music and humor.

My guitar playing friends have said RM is an underrated county picker.

[BigCliff]

Chug-a-lug chug a lug

Make ya wanna holla hidy hoe,

Burns your tummy don't you know

Chug-a-lug chug-a-lu

Got to love it!

[dtel]

Yeah, but you don't know who you are dealing with here. I spun that record the day it arrived back in '64 on the "Bob Crites Nightime Show" KXRJ 1490 AM Russellville, Arksansas.

Wow you learn something new everyday, had know idea you were a dj.

[thebes]

Yeah, but you don't know who you are dealing with here. I spun that record the day it arrived back in '64 on the "Bob Crites Nightime Show" KXRJ 1490 AM Russellville, Arksansas.

Well int tribute to your codger-hood, I oh exalted Thebes are willing to bend the knee and acknowledge your primacy in this issue. After 4000 posts or so, it appears I have made my first factual error.[]

I also liked this one by Johnny Horton:

Well, in eighteen and fourteen we took a little trip

along with Colonel Jackson down the mighty Mississip.

We took a little bacon and we took a little beans,

And we caught the bloody British near the town of New Orleans.



We fired our guns and the British kept a'comin.

There wasn't nigh as many as there was a while ago.

We fired once more and they began to runnin'

down the Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico.



Well, I see'd Mars Jackson walkin down the street

talkin' to a pirate by the name of Jean Lafitte [pronounced La-feet]

He gave Jean a drink that he brung from Tennessee

and the pirate said he'd help us drive the British in the sea.



The French said Andrew, you'd better run,

for Packingham's a comin' with a bullet in his gun.

Old Hickory said he didn't give a dang,

he's gonna whip the britches off of Colonel Packingham.



We fired our guns and the British kept a'comin.

There wasn't nigh as many as there was a while ago.

We fired once more and they began to runnin'

down the Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico.



Well, we looked down the river and we see'd the British come,

and there must have been a hundred of 'em beatin' on the drum.

They stepped so high and they made their bugles ring

while we stood by our cotton bales and didn't say a thing.



Old Hickory said we could take 'em by surprise

if we didn't fire a musket til we looked 'em in the eyes.

We held our fire til we see'd their faces well,

then we opened up with squirrel guns and really gave a yell.




We fired our guns and the British kept a'comin.

There wasn't nigh as many as there was a while ago.

We fired once more and they began to runnin'

down the Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico.



Well, we fired our cannon til the barrel melted down,

so we grabbed an alligator and we fought another round.

We filled his head with cannon balls and powdered his behind,

and when they tetched the powder off, the gator lost his mind.



We'll march back home but we'll never be content

till we make Old Hickory the people's President.

And every time we think about the bacon and the beans,

we'll think about the fun we had way down in New Orleans.



We fired our guns and the British kept a'comin,

But there wasn't nigh as many as there was a while ago.

We fired once more and they began to runnin'

down the Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico.



Well, they ran through the briars and they ran through the brambles

And they ran through the bushes where a rabbit couldn't go.

They ran so fast the hounds couldn't catch 'em

down the Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico.



We fired our guns and the British kept a'comin.

But there wasn't nigh as many as there was a while ago.

We fired once more and they began to runnin'

down the Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico.

[Beechnut]

Strange thing about those old hits, though, they crop up in the fore-brain from time-to-time.

I'm not as "vintage" as some of you around here, but I remember so many songs that were put in my brain while riding in the backseat of Mom and Dads' ol' Osmobile. Great song.

[fwphoto]

Well, we fired our cannon til the barrel melted down,

so we grabbed an alligator and we fought another round.

We filled his head with cannon balls and powdered his behind,

and when they tetched the powder off, the gator lost his mind.

How could you ever forgit a verse like this!

I loved this song! Listened over & over to the record (45 rpm, I believe) one night when I was stayin' with a friend at his grandparent's place. At home we had the likes of Como & Mitch Miller unless, of course, my older sister was playin' Ricky Nelson or the Platters.

Oh, do you remember . . .

Frank W.

[thebes]

This ones even older but we used to play this over and over again while reving up our bodies by circling the coffee table, faster and faster, faster and faster...

While riding in my Cadillac, what to my surprise,
A little Nash Rambler was following me, about one third my size.
The guy must have wanted to pass me up as he kept on tooting his horn,
Beep! Beep!
I'll show him that a Cadillac is not a car to scorn.
Beep! Beep! (Beep! Beep!)
Beep! Beep! (Beep! Beep!).
His horn went Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!
I pushed my foot down to the floor to give the guy the shake,
But the little Nash Rambler stayed right behind,
He still had on his brake.
He must have thought his car had more guts
As he kept on tooting his horn.
Beep! Beep!
I'll show him that a Cadillac is not a car to scorn.
Beep! Beep! (Beep! Beep!)
Beep! Beep! (Beep! Beep!).
His horn went Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!
My car went into passing gear and we took off with dust,
And soon we were doing ninety, must have left him in the dust.
[| From: http://www.elyrics.net/read/c/claps-donald-lyrics/beep!-beep!-lyrics.html |]
When I peeked in the mirror of my car,
I couldn't believe my eyes,
That little Nash Rambler was right behind,
You'd think the guy could fly.
Beep! Beep! (Beep! Beep!) Beep! Beep! (Beep! Beep!).
His horn went Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!
Now we're doing a hundred and ten,
It certainly was a race for a Rambler
To pass a Caddy would be a big disgrace.
For the guy who wanted to pass me,
He kept on tooting his horn. (Beep! Beep!)
I'll show him that a Cadillac is not a car to scorn.
Beep! Beep! (Beep! Beep!)
Beep! Beep! (Beep! Beep!).
His horn went Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!
Now we're doing a hundred and twenty, as fast as I could go,
The Rambler pulled along side of me as if I were going slow.
The fellow rolled down his window and yelled for me to hear,
"Hey, buddy, how can I get this car out of second gear?"

[blindman]

I also remember listening to my parents selection of tunes on the AM radio while I was in the back seat of the family car.

Especially every summer during our annual family vacation.

My two brothers, my sister and I could even lay down on blankets and pillows since our family car was a Chevy Nomad Station Wagon.

I remember "Dang Me" and the "Battle of New Orleans". I also have many fond memories of listening to Frank Sinatra, Elvis, Hank Williams Sr., Johnny Cash, "Tennessee" Ernie Ford, Bing Crosby, Perry Como, Doris Day, Patti Page, Bob Wills & the Texas Playboys . . .

My favorite Roger Miller tune -

Trailer for sale or rent
rooms to let fifty cents.
No phone, no pool, no pets,
I ain’t got no cigarettes.
Ah but two hours of pushin‘ broom
buys an eight by twelve four bit room.
I‘m a man of means, by no means king of the road.

Third boxcar, midnight train,
destination Bangor, Maine.
Old worn out suits and shoes,
I don’t pay no union dues.
I smoke old stogies I have found,
short but not too big around.
I‘m a man of means, by no means king of the road.
I know every engineer on every train,
all of the children and all of their names
and every handout in every town
and every lock that ain’t locked when no one’s around
I sing

Trailer for sale or rent
rooms to let fifty cents.
No phone, no pool, no pets,
I ain’t got no cigarettes.
Ah but two hours of pushin‘ broom
buys an eight by twelve four bit room.
I‘m a man of means, by no means king of the road.

king of the road, king of the road

[cfelliot]

In the summer of 1961, I received a General Electric 7
transistor radio as my birthday present. This was the equivalent of getting an
iPod in those days.

On warm summer nights with the help of AM skip which occurs
at that time of year, I could pick up Arnie "Woo-Woo" Ginsburg on
WMEX in Boston even though it was well over 100 miles away.

At bedtime, with a bit of tin foil (first mod?) strapped to
the extended antenna, the sheets pulled over my head (room treatment?), my
flash light and a stack of Superman comics, I would listen to all that Arnie
would play and pray that my mother wouldn’t catch me!

Every time I hear one of those old songs, I remember every
one of the lyrics and my mind goes back to being 10 years old in a flash!

[germerikan]

Great thread, wanting to see how this song goes I Youtubed it. I got the version when he was on hee haw!!! This led me to listening to some Roy Clark and watching some clips of hee haw, man that brought back memories....

You took off your peg leg your wig and your glass eye

You were surprised? at the look on my face

I wanted to kiss and hug you my darlin

but you were scattered all over the place.

Where, oh where are you tonight

why did you leave me here all alone

I searched the world over and I thought I found true love

you met another an [] pftttttttt you were gone

[BigCliff]

This was always one of my favorites as a youngster.

Big John

Big John

Every mornning at the mine, you could see him arrive.

He stood 6 foot 6, weighed 245.

Kind of broad at the shoulders, narrow at the hip.

And everybody knew you didn't give no lip to Big John.

Big John

Big John

Big Bad John

Big John

Nobody seemed to know where John called home

He just drifted into town and stayed all alone.

He didn't say much, kind of quiet and shy

And if you spoke at all, you'd just said hi to Big John.

Somebody said he came from New Orleans,

Where he got into a fight over a Cajun Queen.

And a crash and a blow from a huge right hand,

sent a Lousiana fella to the promise land.

Big John

Big John

Big bad John

Big John

Then came the day at the bottom of the mine,

when a timber cracked and men started crying.

Minors were praying, and hearts beat fast

and everybody thought they had breathed thier last

cept' John.

Through the dust and the smoke of this man made hell,

walked a giant of a man that the minors knew well.

Grabbed a sagging timber and gave out with a groan,

and like a giant oak tree he just stood there alone, Big John

Big John

Big John

Big Bad John

Big John

And with all of his strength, he gave a mighty shove.

Then a minor yelled out, 'theres a light up above!'.

And 20 men scrambled from a 'would be' grave

now theres only one left down there to save, Big John.

With jacks and timbers, they started back down,

then came that rumble way down in the ground.

And as smoke and gas smelched out of that mine,

everybody knew it was the end of the line, for Big John.

Big John

Big John

Big Bad John

Big John

Now they never re-opend that wortheless pit,

they just placed a marble stand in front of it.

These few words are written on that stand,

'At the bottom of this mine, lies one Hell of a man, Big John'

Big John

Big John

Big Bad John

Big John

[tragusa3]

Hey Bob, I was a fellow record spinner. KAGY 1510am out of Port Sulphur, La. Broadcast the New Orleans and Mississippi Gulf coast. Did it as a kid in high school and college. It was country when country wasn't cool.

It was a small town station in a trailer out in the woods. To give you an idea, the nearest redlight was about 50 miles! I was set up in front of a picture window. I remember watching the rain fall in the woods and spinning John Conlee's 1978 "Rose Colored Glasses".... Life was so simple then. How'd it ever get this busy!

[thebes]

Great stuff guys and great story Trag. This one was another of those summertime AM hits, but much more controversial. A cold War bath of cold water:

The eastern world, it is exploding


Violence flarin', bullets loadin'


You're old enough to kill, but not for votin'


You don't believe in war, but what's that gun you're totin'


And even the Jordan River has bodies floatin'



But you tell me


Over and over and over again, my friend


Ah, you don't believe


We're on the eve


of destruction.



Don't you understand what I'm tryin' to say


Can't you feel the fears I'm feelin' today?


If the button is pushed, there's no runnin' away


There'll be no one to save, with the world in a grave


[Take a look around ya boy, it's bound to scare ya boy]



And you tell me


Over and over and over again, my friend


Ah, you don't believe


We're on the eve


of destruction.



Yeah, my blood's so mad feels like coagulatin'


I'm sitting here just contemplatin'


I can't twist  the truth, it knows no regulation.


Handful of senators don't pass legislation


And marches alone can't bring integration


When human respect is disintegratin'


This whole crazy world is just too frustratin'



And you tell me


Over and over and over again, my friend


Ah, you don't believe


We're on the eve


of destruction.



Think of all the hate there is in Red China


Then take a look around to Selma, Alabama


You may leave here for 4 days in space


But when you return, it's the same old place


The poundin' of the drums, the pride and disgrace


You can bury your dead, but don't leave a trace


Hate your next-door neighbor, but don't forget to say grace


And… tell me over and over and over and over again, my friend


You don't believe


We're on the eve


Of destruction


Mm, no no, you don't believe


We're on the eve


of destruction.