TELEPHONE POLE BLUES
My love for you is like a, house on fire
It's going nowhere, but it's running wild.
Now won't you give me your money, so I can pay my rent.
If I sang you a song, won't you make me the president.
Your love for me is like a rocking chair
Tipping back and forth, but isn't going, anywhere.
I got nowhere to go myself, and I got nowhere to stay.
You give me a hundred dollar bill, I'll take you to a matinee.
Our love was like a country song
A little novelty piece about two minutes long.
Now I'm gunna tell you something, that's gunna make you laugh.
You're just a two dollar habit baby, but I only got a buck and a half.
Our love was like a telephone pole
Under tention, in a hole
But if you wanna see it, I'm gunna show you one last trick
I'm gunna take that big old telephone pole, I'm gunna turn in into a little toothpick.
COFFEE BREAK BLUES
I want to take
a coffee break.
I've got to have a
cup of Java.
Toke a mocha.
Columbian coffee bean.
Make it strong.
Make it hot.
Don't be long now.
Leave the pot.
I mean caffeine.
Columbian coffee bean.
If you're wondering do I like that stuff
well, yeah, I guess I drink it a bit.
Early in the morning and late at night.
As a matter of fact I think I'll have another hit.
A little cream would be a dream.
Come to that
I'll even drink it black.
I don't need no sugar, sugar,
but you could still stir it for me.
Fresh ground.
By the pound.
the only grind
that I don't mind.
I could get used to this liquid
if you give me half a chance.
I worked so hard this morning
but I've still got to go all afternoon.
Just about time for one more cup, now,
and don't you run away with that spoon.
Like Captain John told Lafayette
This stuff would go pretty good
with a cigarette."
Olé cafe.
Hey Brazil
I can't get my fill.
HE'S AN OLD NOVA SCOTIAN
He's an old Nova Scotian
far from the ocean
lost and alone on the street.
He looks like a lobster,
all boiled and red.
His coat is so greasy
his eyes are half-dead.
He doesn't remember
the last thing he said.
He's a derelict,
dead on his feet.
But that's no reason
to be sitting there teasing him,
laughing the way that you are.
You're a far sadder sight
in the deep of this night
in this cold, neon lit, coffee bar.
He comes to the counter
carrying his guitar
and he sits in the stool next to mine.
The boys at the tables
are yelling requests
but the old guy
doesn't pay them no mind.
Then he jumps up and shouts
"I come from the South Shore.
I left in the fifties 'cause
the living was poor
but I've spent all these years
walking up and down Bloor Street
living on handouts and wine."
Then he strums his guitar
and he starts in to sing
but the words don't make sense
and he gets caught in the strings.
But what was by far
the sorriest thing
was the audience howling for more.
And the manager doesn't know
what to do next
- he's been through this so many times.
He's asking him, please,
to put down the guitar
as the audience starts throwing dimes.
And the old man is standing there,
so out of place,
when he lays the guitar on the floor
and a beautiful smile
crosses his face
like he isn't there any more.
He pulls out a clipping
from a long time ago.
He says: "Here's my buddy,
his name is Hank Snow."
And some of the tables
yell back: "Yeah, we know."
As the manager
shows him the door.
But all that's no reason
to be sitting there teasing him,
laughing the way that you are.
You're a far sadder sight
in the deep of this night
in this cold, neon lit coffee bar.
You're a far sadder sight
and the losers tonight
in this cold, neon lit coffee bar.
DARK CORNERS
Going in was sunny, milk and honey,
the sky was blue and the leaves were green.
We were a couple of flirts,
We were in like dirty shirts
but the getting out was not too clean.
I guess I'll never know what it is I missed
and what I'll never understand
is why you had to give the knife a twist.
Now, I realize I'm no prize,
at least not one anyone cares to claim.
But I've got no regrets, what you see is what you get.
Honey can you say the same?
You've got a different face for every day of the week.
You're a schemin' chameleon siren demon
schizophrenic photogenic freak.
Well you're a litterbug at best,
you leave behind a mess
and you're a fool if you think nobody sees.
And at the worst you're a murderer in the first
even if nothing in the law agrees.
You tell me you don't love nobody better than you.
Well you told me a lot of things,
I don't think that one's any more true.
I'm burned, I got nothing in return.
All you ever learned to do is take.
You're not on the level,
you're a trickster, you're a devil,
you're a pasty, tasty little piece of cake.
I've seen the soft side of you, what'd that prove?
You've got a heart you could skate on.
You've got a permanent hate on for everything that moves.
I'm thin-skinned, still getting back my wind
but I'll be back again someday.
I know I'm only one of many
but I'm the original bad penny, honey,
and when I owe I pay.
Part of me says live and learn, learn to turn the other cheek,
but I've got this knee-jerk reaction demanding satisfaction,
And it's wicked now, with a self destructive streak.
Well I don't know what I will do
before this whole thing is through
but whatever it is I'll be seeing you around.
I've been following you long enough
down the corridors of your mind
to know where it is you like to hang around.
You’re hanging around those dark corners honey.
You'd better watch out hanging around those dark corners babe.
Talk to me Babe
Talk to me Babe.
You give me reason to believe you still care.
Do you think it's right to keep me
hanging in air?
Talk to me Babe.
It wasn't long ago that we were so close.
Now you're like a stranger and
I feel like a ghost -
wandering around...
You tell me you don't want to lose my love
but you won't say yes, and you won't say no.
I'm learning all about the blues, my love
Do I have to guess? Or do I already know?
Talk to me Babe
I want so badly to be talking to you.
Couldn't this be just another thing
we go through?
Talk to me Babe.
Don't worry that you might have
nothing to say
if you've got the will I know that we'll
find the way...
I want a lover who believes in me
when I am up and when I am down.
I want a lover like you used to be -
I know we didn't feel free,
but I think we could be.
Talk to me Babe.
I think you owe me more than
you gave when you left.
I know you do because you said so yourself.
Talk to me Babe.
It's like we're standing on each side
of a wall.
If we tear it down would there be nothing at all?
- That's what I've got to see...
Falling out of love is not a crime,
people do it all the time.
But if you've still got affection for me babe
I want to let it grow,
and I want to tell you so.
Talk to me Babe.
You can still...
Talk to me Babe
in spite of everything...
Talk to me Babe...
YOU
You. You make me feel so good.
You make me feel like a kid
the way I did
before I knew about the war between the sexes.
The subject of this exercise is you.
I've only known you for a day or two
but time doesn't seem to have a lot to do
with how I feel about you.
You've got me smiling in the morning when I'm opening my bills.
I'm thinking about putting flower boxes in my window sills.
I said you, you're doing something to me.
You
were standing there beside me in a room
when I became aware of your perfume
and I made so bold as to speak my mind
expecting to be scolded.
But you
were kind enough to laugh about my joke
I bummed a smoke
to hide the way I felt
'cause I was ready to melt.
Like a lump of butter on a hot corn cob
I'm even thinking about going out and looking for a job.
I said you, you're doing something to me.
Now I
I walk around the block
and I find myself somewhere halfway across the city.
And I
I sit down to write a song
and I come up with this hopeless little ditty.
But I pity anyone
who's only ever won
a bunch of money in a lottery.
I said you, you're doing something to me.
And I
I've only got one number in my book
and I don't even have to look
I know that number off by heart.
I start to dial
but then I wait awhile
'cause I am so afraid that you will change your mind
but then I find
that what is really terrifying me
is the thought that you may not.
You've got me polishing the furniture and washing the car.
My friends say give the little lady a big cigar.
I said you, you're doing something to me.
You, you're doing something to me.
WORDS AND MUSIC BY BOB SNIDER
(c) peermusic CANADA INC./CHATTERBOX MUSIC