(by Mississippi John Hurt / parody lyrics by Randy Kaplan)

Children, listen if you can
I'll tell you 'bout this kid they call the candy man
Candy man. Candy man

Not the candy man you buy candy from. I'm talking about the candy man who eats candy and nothing but candy.

He's been eatin' candy since he got born
He eats candy canes and candy corn
Candy man. Candy man.

And not just occasional candies like Candy Canes and Candy Corn. He pops perennials into his mouth too, like Milky Way bars and Hershey's Kisses. Frozen Hershey’s Kisses. Takes longer to eat ‘em. But they’re harder on the teeth.

Candy's all he's ever had
That's why his bill of health's so bad
Candy man, candy man.

I’ll tell you ‘bout his bill of health:

His blood sugar is through the roof, mm, hmmm.
He's just got one original toof, mm, hmmm. mm, hmmm.

Nobody’s got a sweeter tooth than mine!
I gotta keep control!
‘Cause if I don’t I know
I’ll sugarize my soul (that sugar’s gonna dig a hole)

He eats candy for breakfast and candy for lunch
He eats candy while he’s watching The Brady Bunch
Candy man. . .

And he’s binge watching that show on Hulu. He’s binge watching it while he’s binge eating. That’s a dangerous combination. If you feed on junk while you’re streaming a video feed, well, those two things feed each other. And if you run out of candy while there’s still time left in the episode, you want more candy. But then the episode ends, and you still have candy, so you start another episode. This thing’s an infinite regress. It’s a vicious cycle. It’s a never-ending story.

If you eat candy each and every day
Your teeth and gums and mind decay
Candy man, like the candy man

If you're a candy lover and you still got baby teeth, you're lucky. You're gonna get a second chance. Don't blow it next time around, though! You don’t want to mess with your permanent teeth. I guess you lost your baby ears already. You must have, if you're listening to advanced ragtime music like this! Adult ears are good for listening to advice too. Parental and dental advice.

Y'all heard what the dentist said
He said, “Brush your teeth before you go to bed.”
Not the candy man, nope, candy man

That's why his blood pressure is through the roof,
mm, hmmm. mm, hmmm.
He's just got one original toof, mm, hmmm. mm, hmmm.

Mmm-hmm ... yes, yes!

[BACK TO TOP]

(by Charlie Patton / parody lyrics by Randy Kaplan)

You can shake it, you can break it, you can hang it on the wall.
You can throw it out the window, catch it 'fore it falls.
You can shake it, you can break it, you can hang it on the wall.
You can throw it out the window, catch it 'fore it falls.


My jelly, my roll,
sweet mama, don't you let it fall.

My jelly, my roll,
sweet mama, don't you let it fall.

You can bake it, you can twist it,
you can give it, you can grab it,
you can load it, you can list it,
you can bend it, you can nab it.

You can mince it, you can chop it,
you can send it, you can slide it,
you can start it, you can stop it,
you can zip it, you can hide it.

My jelly, my roll, sweet mama, don't you let it fall.

My jelly, my roll, sweet mama, don't you let it fall.


And I got a jelly roll so fine, the best in this town.
And I, I never leave it far behind. I don't set it down


My jelly, my roll, sweet mama, don't you let it fall.

My jelly, my roll, sweet mama, don't you let it fall.

You can snake it, you can cook it,
you can take it, you can book it,
you can write it, you can read it,
you can bite it, you can bleed it.

You can heat it, you can cool it,
you can beat it, you can fool it,
you can Share it, you can Like it,
you can Tweet it, you can mic it.

You can post it, you can toast it,
you can guess it, you can host it,
you can blend it, you can end it,
you can rip it, you can roast it.

You can ...

My jelly, my roll, sweet mama, don't you let it fall.
My jelly, my roll, sweet mama, don't you let it fall.


Oh, I got a jelly roll so fine, the best in this town.
And I never leave it far behind, so don’t put it down.

My jelly, my roll, sweet mama don't you let it fall.
My jelly, my roll, sweet mama don't you let it fall.

Jus' shake it, break it, hang it ... wall.
Throw it ... window, catch it ... falls.

Shake it, break it, hang it ... wall
Throw it out the window, catch it 'fore it ...

You can sing it, you can tap it,
you can say it, you can snap it,
you can dance it, you can chance it,
you can pop it, you can lance it.

You can pluck it, you can bow it
you can reap it, you can sow it,
you can trim it, you can cut it,
you can mine it, you can mow it.

You can slip it, you can slide it,
you can zip it, you can hide it,
you can bend it, you can break it,
you can blend it, you can bake it.

Stir it, mince it,
wring it, rinse it,
pick it, strum it,
thrum it, bum it.

You can tick it, you can tock it,
you can keep it in your locket,
you can glue it, you can tack it,
you can zip in it your jacket.

Oh, chew it slurp it,
belch it, burp it,
sneeze it, cough it,
don it, doff it.

You can bunt it, you can bat it,
you can pet it, you can pat it,
you can plant it, you can dig it,
you can wear it as a wig. It
makes you happy, makes you glad,
makes you goofy just a tad,
and if you’re feeling kinda blue,
I got a jelly roll for you!

My jelly, my roll, sweet mama, don't you let it fall
My jelly, my roll, sweet mama, don't you let it fall!

[BACK TO TOP]

(by John Lee Hooker / parody lyrics by Randy Kaplan)

Well, my mama didn't allow me just to stay up all night long
No, my mama didn't allow me just to stay up all night long
I said to myself, “I don’t care what mama don’t allow. I’m gonna boogie-woogie anyhow.”

Hey, your mama can make you stay in your bed. But she can't mandate drowsiness, right?

When I first moved to Detroit from Los Angeles, people, I was walkin' down Hastings Street. I went looking the Henry Swing Club, the one John Lee Hooker used to sing at. I said, “Hey people! Where's the Henry Swing Club?” They said, “That place has been gone for decades, man!” I said, “Oh.” They said, “And so has John Lee. He moved to San Francisco way back when.” Again I said, “Oh.” But I still needed a place to boogie woogie. I didn't know what I was gonna do. But then I hatched a plan.

I said to myself, “Hey, Randy.
You can boogie woogie at the schools.
You can boogie woogie at the camps.
You can boogie woogie at the libraries.
You can boogie woogie wherever there’s a bunch of kids that wants to hear your songs!”

So wake up, children, are you ready to boogie woogie?
If you are… then…
Boogie, Chillun!
Boogie, Chillun!
Boogie, Chillun!

When I was a little kid and I got my first guitar, I would never let that thing out of my sight. I would never let that thing out of my hands! I would fall asleep playing that guitar. One night, I was lyin' in bed, and I heard my mom and dad talkin'. I heard my mom worrying that I wouldn't go to sleep, that I would just play my guitar and dance around all night long. My mom said, "He's gonna be so tired at school!" I heard my dad tell my mom, “Let that boy boogie-woogie. It's in him and it’s got to come out.” And it felt so good to hear that. And even though I felt so tired, I went on boogiein' just the same.

So let’s Boogie, Chillen'!
Boogie, Chillen'!
Boogie, Chillen'!
Boogie, Chillen'!
Boogie, Chillen'!

[BACK TO TOP]

(by Tampa Red / parody lyrics by Randy Kaplan)

'Twas in the fall one leafy day
We went to the playground to climb and play
You climbed up the slide, laughed so hard you cried
Yeah, you were sittin' on top of the world

It was a happy kind of cry. You were happy crying. But not for long.

The slide was slick and you slid down fast
You flew off and landed on your yes, yes, yes
When things go wrong, so wrong with you,
It hurts me too.

It's called empathy! And we parents sometimes have a little bit too much of it!

'Twas in the winter one snowy day
The ground was white and the sky was grey
I took you to ski, you were on the chairlift with me
And we were sittin' on top of the world

But it wasn’t Colorado or Italy.
That double diamond trail was i-i-icy.
Oh, when things go wrong, so wrong with you (as they did),
It hurts me too.

Yeah, the sympathy center in my brain ached just as much as your purported broken leg did. I was aching in solidarity with you. Aching vicariously. Vicarious aching. But your leg wasn’t really broken, was it. You said it was broken. You said you broke it. But the only thing you broke was the land speed record, and that was when the dessert cart got wheeled out that night. You made a beeline for that thing. Can’t do that with a broken leg, can you?

'Twas in the springtime one yellow day
It could have been April, but it might have been May
We hiked up that hill, and kept climbin' until
we were sittin' on top of the world

But on the way down we hit plenty of mud
We went slippin' and slidin'—your tears were aflood
When things go wrong, so wrong with you,
It hurts me too.

'Twas in the summer one sandy day
The beach was burning, we were catchin' some rays
The waves were crashing, our suits in fashion
and we were sitting on top of the world

But cut to that night, your back was burnt red
I guess I didn't apply as much suntan lotion as mama said
When things go wrong, so wrong with you,
It hurts me too.

Believe me, that hurt a lot. Oh, man—the flack I caught.

[BACK TO TOP]

(by Blind Blake / parody lyrics by Randy Kaplan)

I wake up in the morning, creaky as a board
I need more oil than a blues man can afford
Kick off the covers, Daddy gonna do a stretch

I’m gonna stretch my hamstrings, and my lower back
It’s flexibility this body lacks
Kick off the covers, Daddy gonna do a stretch

Gonna stretch my shoulders, stretch my hips
Stretch my earlobes and my chapped lips
Ow! Chapped lips, they should not be stretched!

I’m gonna hang here for a minute from my pull-up bar
And twist like I'm backing out the driveway in my car
Kicked off the covers, now Daddy gonna do a stretch

Gonna stretch like a rubber band and like a balloon
I’m gonna reach so high I touch the moon
C'mon, now. Give me your very best stretch

Stretch your hands way up to the sky
Touch the sun! You can't? Well, try!
C’mon, kiddo. Give me your very best stretch.
Stretch with me now!

Everything I learned I learned from my dog
I learned how to sit like a bump on a log
I gotta get moving now, Daddy gonna do a stretch

Everything I learned I learned from my cat
I learned how to stretch and I learned how to scat.
C'mon, kitty. Let me see you do a stretch!
Scat, cat!

Meow, meow, meow, meow, purr, purr, purr, purr,
hisss, hisss, hissss, (stretch that fur)!
Oh, yeah! Man, those cats can stretch!

I can crack my knuckles, I can touch my toes
I can raise up my eyebrows and scrunch up my nose
Kick off the covers, now Daddy gonna do a stretch

You don't need no gym shorts, don't need no running shoes
You don't need a yoga mat to catch these blues
Just kick off the covers and let me see you do a stretch

Stretch your red tongue, yeah, stick it on out!
You've eaten six cherry ices? What's that all about?
It’s 7 in the morning!
You want another one? Don't push it. That's a stretch.

C’mon, stretch!

Oh, we're gonna be so limber after this song!
We’re not gonna pull a single muscle today!

I think I'm awake now, but I’m still not limber enough to face the day.
What? You want to play TWISTER before school?! No way.
Kick off the covers, Daddy gonna do a stretch

[BACK TO TOP]

(by Blind Blake / parody lyrics by Randy Kaplan)

Down at the lake they make you take a jump.
Down at the lake they make you take a jump.
And if you won't they call you a chicken and a chump.

The lake I'm talking about is the lake in Starlight, Pennsylvania. I went to camp in that town for a couple of years when I was a kid. The lake there was a cold, murky affair. And underneath its opaque surface, it was teeming with life. Slimy life. Life I didn't want brushing up against my knees. And SWIM wasn't optional. It was mandatory! Even on cloudy and drizzly days! And if you didn't go in, well, everyone would make fun of you, calling you all sorts of names. Names like "chicken chump."

And a chicken chump ain't sumptin' I want to be.
Chicken chump ain't sumptin' I want to be.
But I had to jump, or else that would be me.

Talk about anticipatory anxiety. Man! I didn't like imagining that cold feeling I knew was on its way. But I couldn't bear to be called a Chicken Chump, and so I'd take the plunge. (Splash SFX.) I could barely breath in that freezing cold, algae-ridden water. I couldn't see my feet down there either. It was downright creepy!

A frog, a fish, a leech, a water snake
Frogs and fishes, leeches, water snakes.
I prefer a pool, I don’t like lakes.

I started feeling real homesick, especially for those suburban chlorinated pools. Ain't no fishes, frogs, leeches, or watersnakes can thrive in that harsh chemical environment! Your skin, eyes, and hair can barely make a living in water like that, let alone thrive! But at least there ain't no leeches that'll insist upon sharing your blood with you! So I said, “Get me outa here!” And I climbed up the ladder and right back out onto the dock. Get me away from those parameciums and hydras and . . . who-knows-what-else. But out there on the dock in the drizzling rain, I started shivering . . . (and I felt just as bad. I was caught, if not between a rock and a hard place, then at least between a dock and a live lake.)

It sure is funny how cold a kid can get.
It sure is funny how cold a kid can get.
When the sun ain't shinin' and his bathing suit's all wet.

The funny thing, if there is one, is that I now like lakes. I live in Michigan, which has about a million of ‘em. And that’s not even counting the giant ones that surround us on three sides. So it’s good that I changed my tune. I’m even on good terms with the frogs, fishes, leeches, and water snakes now. Did you know that Michigan has more coastline than any other state in the union . . . besides Alaska, of course.

Yeah, it was a no-win situation. Six of one, half a dozen of the other. Hey, if you're talking about a baker's dozen, though, half of that is more than six. So I guess I can win. 7-6. But I guess it can still be 6-and-a-half to 6-and-a-half. Is that the moral of this story? I don't know. You tell me. Go ahead, come up with a claim and back it up with some evidence from the lyrics, music, tone, and all that. Email me your thesis. I'd be interested to know what you think. Something I do know is that I already sang the last verse. So I'm gonna just let this song peter out now . . . maybe end with another splashing sound.

[BACK TO TOP]

(by Blind Boy Fuller / parody lyrics by Randy Kaplan)

I've been your dog a dozen years or more
I've been your dog a dozen years or more
Ever since you found me struttin’ down that cement shore

LIE, Long Island's 495
LIE, Long Island's 495
Near Little Neck Parkway, it's a wonder I was still alive

That day had been a long and lonesome day
That day had been a long and lonesome day
Seemed like my tomorrows were bound to be the same old way

I said, L-rdy L-rd, what more can a poor dog do?
I said, L-rdy L-rd, what more can a poor dog do?
But my whole life changed, when I was picked up by the likes of you.

Spent my life with you, no need to weep and moan
Spent my life with you, no need to weep and moan
I had family all around me and a place to call my very own

So there you have it. Nice, right? But when I played it for Virginia she didn't seem so excited. I mean, she used to get more excited when I gave her a crust of bread. I asked her what was wrong. She said that she appreciated the effort and all but that English didn't really capture the true emotion, the true essence, of her experience. She said that other dogs wouldn't really be able to relate to it as it stood. She suggested that she write a verse in Canine. She really turned the tables on me there, showing me up like that. One verse! And she really did say it all! I wish you could hear Virginia sing that verse herself. But the day I had my recording stuff set up, she was busy. She had an itch on her hind quarters, there on her haunch, and she said that scratching it was gonna occupy her for three or four hours. Luckily, though, she taught it to me, and now I can sing it to you on her behalf. Yep, on the behalf of Virginia Halfwolf. So here it is, to the best of my ability . . .

Woof, grrrr, hmm, hmm, hmm...

I've been your dog a dozen years or more
I've been your dog a dozen years or more
Ever since you found me struttin’ down that cement shore

[BACK TO TOP]

(by Hambone Willie Newbern / parody lyrics by Randy Kaplan)

My pet monkey, Kqxhc, likes muffins. But the problem is, one of my pet cats is named Muffin. So every time Kqxhc wants to eat a muffin, Muffin freaks out. She thinks the end is near! So Kqxhc never gets to eat his favorite dish. Well, a few weeks ago, Muffin and Nothin’ (that’s my other cat——the ornery one) went to a sleepover party at their friend’s house. As soon as they left, Kqxhc said, “Can you make me muffins in the morning?” I agreed to do so. Didn't turn out too well, though. First off, I had insomnia. I was Tossin’ and turnin’ most of the night. Did some rollin’ and tumblin’ too. And when I trudged downstairs to the kitchen in the morning, I couldn’t find the implements of my trade!

I’d rolled and I tumbled
and I shook the whole night long
I’d rolled and I tumbled
and I shook the whole night long
And when I woke up in the morning
I found my biscuit roller gone

I said, Hey, Kqxhc!
Where could that biscuit roller be?
I said, Hey Kqxhc!
Where could that biscuit roller be?
Kqxhc just shrugged his shoulders and said, “R-R-Randy, don’t look at me!”

Well, we looked and searched and fished about. We even did some rummaging and foraging. It didn’t turn up.

I had to fold my arms
and slowly walk away
I had to fold my arms
and slowly walk away
Kqxhc said, “Think of something quick!
Muffin and Nothin’ are coming back today!”

Kqxhc went off to take his morning nap. I decided I couldn’t let him down. So I looked for something to use in lieu of my biscuit roller. I needed something cylindrical, resistant, and smooth. I knew just the thing. A paper towel roll. Well, as it turns out, a paper towel roll might be cylindrical and smooth, but it’s certainly not resistant. I can crush that thing in my bare hands. I even tried stuffing the paper towel roll with its own paper towels! That didn't work. So I picked up my guitar and started playing a lament, a dark blues number just like this one. And I looked down at my left hand, and right there on my pinky was something cylindrical, smooth, and definitely resistant. It's this bottleneck slide you hear now. So I used that to make the muffins.

I said, “Hey, Kqxhc! Come take a look and see.”
I said, “Hey, Kqxhc! Come take a look and see.”
I showed him all the muffins. He ate 9, left 1 for me.

[BACK TO TOP]

(by Skip James / parody lyrics by Randy Kaplan)

Crow Jane, Crow Janie, Crow Jane
Don't you hold your head so high
Don't you know your naptime is well nigh?
It's well nigh.

There's a new expression for ya.
Nigh. It means near. As in, Nap.
Comin' soon to a crib near you! Real soon!

Crow Jane, Crow Janie, Crow Jane
Sittin' on my lap
Sometimes you know
You got to nap
You got to lie down
You got to nap
You got to...

I'm gonna close these curtains
I'm gonna shut these shades real tight
And although it's day
You might think it's night
You might think it's...
You might think...
It's night time...
You might...

When I lower you down
Into your little crib
You scream and shout
and kick me in the ribs
Ow! Don't do that!
Crow, Jane! That hurts!

I gotta delight and distract! Delight and redirect! Okay, uh, Jane! You love to kick Daddy in the ribs. Wait, wait. Narrate. I gotta Narrate. Crow Jane. You just kicked Daddy in the ribs. Okay, redirect. How about kicking this pillow instead? Oh, I forgot. Pillows aren't permitted in the crib. They’re proscribed. Forbidden, banned, embargoed! Blankets aren’t allowed either. There are no distractions in there! No wonder you don't want to go to sleep. Your mattress is like the lunar surface. Bare. Barren. Cold. Nary a microbe or a germ to be found. I know that because we use some kind of special laundry detergent and we got you an anti-microbial fitted sheet, one that goes all the way underneath and adheres to itself so that you couldn’t untuck it and wrap it around yourself if you spent all night thrashing about. Let’s thrash about now for a spell . . .

The world will get real quiet
When you fall asleep
And for a while
We might have some peace
For a while
For an hour
Maybe half
Twenty minutes...
Without a blanket?
Turn up the heat
Now it's too hot

For us, anyway. How can we solve this? Okay, enough is enough. Give her a blanket. I don't care what your Mommy & Me teacher says. You know where she'd be safest? On the floor with no furniture in the room. Where ya gonna draw the line?

So Crow Jane, Crow Janie, Crow Jane
Don't you hold your head so high
Don't you know your nap time is well nigh?
It's well nigh.
Closer than nigh.
Much closer.
It's now.

[BACK TO TOP]

(by Robert Johnson / parody lyrics by Randy Kaplan)

Y'all know what wringing your hands is? It's just like wringing out a washcloth, but without the washcloth. That's what you're supposed to do when you're worried and unsettled. Especially if you’re the damsel in a silent film. Try it. Wring out your anxiety like dirty bathwater. That’s a metaphor. And a semaphore too. I didn’t know that when I was a little kid, but I knew I didn’t like being left with my grandma when my folks drove off to Gulfport.

From four till late I was wringing my hands and crying
From four till late I was wringing my hands and crying
I believe to my soul, my folks are Gulfport bound

From Memphis to Norfolk it's a 36-hour ride
From Memphis to Norfolk it's a 36-hour ride
They say I'd be a prisoner in my car seat, so they leave me far behind

My grandma stays here with me. I gotta show her the ropes. I got three of them. They’re from my magic kit. I can make a knot disappear. Can't tell you how I do it, though. I also gotta show her the figurative ropes. You see, my grandma doesn't know where anything is or how to do stuff like Mom and Dad do it. So I gotta teach her.

Grandma, my robe is on the hook and my PJs in the dresser drawer
My bathrobe’s on the hook, I keep my PJs in the dresser drawer
But you can let me run around naked or wear your apron or overalls.

Ya ever wear your grandma's apron or overalls? Sometimes I wear her apron, when we're baking. Well, she bakes, I taste. We each excel at our jobs. You know what else I excel at? Jumping from the arm of the living room couch over the coffee table and onto my father’s reclining chair. I’m not allowed to do it, but sometimes I can’t resist. I mostly practice when my folks are out of town. Grandma nearly had a conniption when she saw me do that stunt. She says I’m tempting fate, whatever that means. But I know she won’t tell on me. She’s cool like that. My folks always wanna know how it went and what we did. But Grandma always leaves out the parts about my mischievous exploits and risky feats of derring-do.

From four till late I'm a daredevilish little clown
From four till late I'm a daredevil and a clown
But Grandma calls me an angel, she don't want to tear her grandson's reputation down.

Whenever my folks leave town they bid me fare, farewell
When my folks leave town they bid me fare, farewell
When they return again Grandma's got a great long story to tell . . . long yet abridged.

[BACK TO TOP]

(by Jimmy Van Heusen and Johnny Burke / interstitial dialogue by Randy Kaplan)

[BACK TO TOP]

(by Mance Lipscomb / parody lyrics by Randy Kaplan)

Gimme some more of that little brown jug
Gimme little more of that little brown jug

Glug glug glug glug glug glug glug
Gimme some more of that little brown jug

I know I'm not the one to talk, due to my prolix verbosity and all, but I’m here to tell you, you don't need extraneous or extra or ancillary words for things. Conciseness is very important. Concisosity. Concisity. Concisitude? No, I guess it’s conciseness. Funny, the word for that should sound more concise. But it doesn’t. Anyway, like I've been telling you for years, and as I said before, and like I just reiterated again (that's a redundant pleonasm if ever I’ve heard one . . . and so is that) . . . juice from an orange is called orange juice, and juice from a grape is called grape juice, so it only stands to reason that juice from——let’s say an eye——be called eye juice, and juice from a cloud, of course, should be called cloud juice.

So I'm gonna say this loud and clear:
Juice from an eye ain't called a tear.
It's eye juice. Yeah, and juice from a cloud
Is cloud juice. Say it clear and loud:

“Cloud Juice!”

Yeah, you don't need words like ‘tears’ or ‘water’ or ‘rain,’ despite what they teach you at learning camp. That’d be what you call ‘school.’ I say, call it like it is. And Play It As It Lays. Don’t go off on unnecessary tangents. Do your best to restrain yourself, like I just did by avoiding a discussion of the Joan Didion novel PLAY IT AS IT LAYS. I even skipped over a great ZEBRA song whose title I blurted out before in passing. The long and short of it, the takeaway, the lesson to be learned . . . and gleaned, is to stay totally germane. Don’t use extra words. Be salient and relevant and concise.

Oh, I asked my mama for fifteen cents
To see the elephant jump the fence
He jumped so high that he reached the sky
He didn't come down till the fourth of July

Yes, that verse is indeed germane. Don’t lose the golden thread on me now. You see, when the elephant was sky high, all the kids got the jim-jams and the heebie-jeebies. And when he landed, the attendant, concomitant thud, freaked out all the kids. Some of ‘em even started secreting eye juice from their eyes. They kept right on doing that even when they saw that the elephant was not at all injured. Their salty eye juice had turned sweet, maybe even mawkishly so. Anyway, and nevertheless, now that that's all cleared up, let's talk about where I store all my favorite juices——grape, apple, peach, and pear. I keep 'em in a special place. In a container of sorts.

Yeah, I keep my juice in a little brown jug
So gimme some more of that little brown jug
Gimme a little more of that little brown jug
A little bit more of that little brown jug

Who'd want to cry tears anyway when you can cry juice? Nobody, that's who! You know No’bdy, don’t you? He’s the one Odysseus pretended to be so he could defeat the Cyclops Polyphemus. And you know Nothin’ too, my recalcitrant cat.

Some of these days I'll stop acting the fool
I'll be getting my books and going to school
Wearing my reading and writing shoes
Bringing my lunch and singing the blues

Yeah, I think I’ll disguise myself as an elementary school kid and infiltrate your class. It always looks like you guys are having so much edifying fun when I make my rounds. If it all works out, I’ll bring a lunch box but not a thermos. I’ll have a jug instead. You know what superhero I'd want on my lunchbox? Mance Lipscomb. He's a superhero of the Country-Blues. He’s the guy I first heard do a version of this song. He called it Hell and Toe Polka. Makes sense, doesn’t it. I mean, most of you have probably been doing that exact dance for the past few minutes, right? Anyway, Mance is from Texas. They got a lot of bugs down there, don't they? I don’t squoosh bugs. I live and let live. I've got kind of a laissez-faire attitude, entomologically speaking. Look around you now. You'll probably see an insect of some sort. Do you?

There's a little lost bug and he's just like you
Up from a sparkle of dust he grew
Don't squish him down, don't roll him up
in toilet paper. Just put him in a cup

Let him stay with you. You could use a companion. But if you prefer absolute and unabated privacy, then set the bug free; repatriate him with his family outside. Lay him down on a patch of pachysandra or on a rose bush. Just don't put him on a thorn. You wouldn't want to be laid down on a thorn, however gently, would you? I didn't think so. And if you feel a bit squeamish about picking up the bug and carrying him outside, use a cup. And if you don’t have a cup for collecting and transporting bugs who’ve lost their way, I know what you can use. And so do you by now.

Put that bug in a little brown jug
A little bitty plain old little brown jug
Give him a kiss and give him a hug
And then set him free from that little brown jug

Really any jug will do. I once used my father-in-law’s replica Little Brown Jug college football rivalry trophy to spring a spider from the basement. That’s a whole nother story, though. And I guess I should quit while I'm ahead. Or behind. Am I behind now? No? Not quite? That’s mighty kind of you. Okay, I’m gonna go get me a glass of cloud juice now. Do I want cumulous cloud juice or thunder cloud juice? That’s the kind with bubbles. I’ll just take my chances, roll the dice, see what’s in the jug . . .

Hey, give me some more of that little brown jug . . .

Gimme some more of that little brown jug
Gimme little more of that little brown jug
Glug glug glug glug glug glug glug
Gimme some more of that little brown jug

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