AIN'T DERE NO MORE - PART 2 - Benny Grunch & The Bunch

BENNY GRUNCH 

& THE BUNCH 

- SONG LYRICS - 

INCLUDING 

AIN’T DERE NO MORE - PART I 

AIN’T DERE NO MORE - PART 2 

AIN’T NO PLACE TO PEE ON MARDI GRAS DAY 

AT THE BEACH, AT THE BEACH 

CHRISTMAS IN CHALMETTE 

EVACUATION DAY 

44 YEARS IN SHOW BIZ AND THIS IS FAR AS I GOT 

FRIDAY NITE (THE NEIGHBORHOOD MOVIE THEATERS OF NEW ORLEANS) 

GARBAGE NITE 

GOTTA GET A BAND/BRING ME BACK - PART 2 

IF FEBRUARY 7TH WAS ALL SAINTS DAY 

I GOT A USED KAZOO FOR CHRISTMAS 

I THINK I JUST SEEN ELVIS IN THE MILDEW ON MY WALLS 

METAIRIE O METAIRIE 

NORRIS THE NOCTURNAL NUTRIA 

O LITTLE TOWN OF DESTREHAN 

OVER BY YOUR MAMA’N NEM 

RED LIGHT CAMERAS AND POTHOLES FOR AULD LANG SYNE 

SANTA AND HIS REINDEER GOT THEIR MODULAR HOME 

SANTA AND HIS REINDEER USED TO LIVE RIGHT HERE 

SANTA PUT THE HURT ON YOU 

THE CREATURE FROM THE CITY PARK LAGOON 

THE ELVES FINALLY RAP 

THE G.E.D. FIGHT SONG 

THE HUBIGS PIES BOOGIE WOOGIE SING ALONG FLAVOR SONG 

THE SPIRIT OF SMILEY LEWIS/BRING ME BACK 

THE TWELVE YATS OF CHRISTMAS


(Benny “Grunch” Antin) ©Anzel Anzel, BMI 

Where’s the downtown stores 

Ain’t there no more 

Where’s the Schwegmann’s stores 


Where’s all the stores 


Everybody cried 

On the Live Eyewitness news 

McKenzie’s got closed down 

‘Cause a zink was all mildewed 

Well, they opened up again 

But while I was in line 

They all closed down, but I heard they’re gonna 

Open one more time 

Just hotels, just hotels 

More are on the way 

Mr. Bingle quit at the Carlton Ritz 

“Cause he can’t reach the buffet..ay 

Krauss is gone so you can’t try on 

No queen-size lingerie 

But, watcha gonna do with K & B 

And Schwegmann’s gone away 

A & G’s ain’t there no more 

Mc Crory’s ain’t there no more 

Waterbury’s ain’t there no more 

Dailey’s ain’t there no more 

Red Goose-’a ain’t there no more 

Them kiddies shoes-’a ain’t there no more 

Godchaux’s Mens …On the second floor? 

That’s the one! ain’t there no more 

Maison Blanche and Holme’s 

Was just like dinosaurs 

That roamed out in Gentilly Woods 

Before it was explored 

Downtown a million years 

Then gone in just a blink 

MB’s and Holmes and dinosaurs 

Are mostly all extinct 

(Just hotels chorus) 

Lowes State show ain’t there no more 

Miller Wohl ain’t there no more 

Leonard Krower’s ain’t there no more 

Claiborne Towers ain’t there no more 

Well, Kress’s then ain’t there no more 

‘Was a “five and ten” ain’t there no more 

Old Grocery store with the …double screen door? 

That’s the one! Ain’t there no more 

Paw paw shopped at Schwegmann’s 

Forty years or more 

‘Cause Schwegmann’s had a bar-room 

Right there in the store 

Paw Paw got some French bread 

Then he hung around 

He’d walk home with the shopping cart 

So he wouldn’t just fall down 


Labiche’s ain’t there no more 

Kreeger’s ain’t there no more 

Stein’s is great ain’t there no more 

Rivergate ain’t there no more 

Hey, look they’re layin tracks 

Canal street-car is back 

And Rubenstein’s and Walgreens 

Still right there where they at 


Watcha gonna do with K & B 

And Schwegmann’s gone away 

Schwegmann’s gone away 


Schwegmann’s gone away 


(Repeat and fade)



We’re gonna go out ‘most every night 

Checkin out all the Christmas lights, 

Ain’t Dere No More’s, got lots to say 

Listen up fast or get out the way 

I tried all night in Metry 

At various locals 

You can’t catch oysters out the 

West Esplanade canal 

So-- Spray Rudolf with a can of Off 

And set the house alarm 

We’ll go see lites in Metry 

And what they got that’s gone 

JC’s…Ain’t dere no more 

House of Lee’s…Ain’t dere no more 

Metry Ford…Ain’t dere no more 

On Metry Road…Ain’t dere no more 

Pelican Bowl…Ain’t dere no more 

Wrap’ N Roll…Ain’t dere no more 

How ‘bout the Real…Superstore 

That’s the one…Ain’t dere no more 

If your lights in St. Bernard 

Stay up the whole year then 

Just wait at least till Trick or Treat 

Before ya plug em in 

So-Spray Rudolf with a can of Off 


We’ll go see lites in St. Bernard 


Atlantic Thrift…Ain’t dere no more 

Drug Store was Trist…Ain’t dere no more 

Jerry La Vie’s…Ain’t dere no more 

Broom Factory…Ain’t dere no more 

Cow Town…Ain’t dere no more 

Whole thing burned down…Ain’t dere no more 

West’s Lumber…Cut them boards 

2 x 4’s…Ain’t dere no more 

Lakeveiw’s getting swank 

Coffee shops and banks 

And churches where they all give thanks 

For the streets that ain’t yet sank 


We’ll go see lites in Lakeview 


Rockery Inn…Ain’t dere no more 

Velvet Swing…Ain’t dere no more 

Lenfant’s in the back…Ain’t dere no more 

Smokehouse smoke stack…Ain’t dere no more 

Don’t Cook Tonight…Ain’t dere no more 

Call Chicken Delight…Ain’t dere no more 

Lakeview Show then…Harrison Drug Store 

Studio-A…Ain’t dere no more 

On St. Charles Avenue 

They need some more de¢cor 

But Audubon Park wouldn’t be so dark 

If the Copelands lived next door 



We’ll go see lites in Uptown 


Eiffel Tower…Ain’t dere no more 

Loretta’s Flowers…Ain’t dere no more 

Swan Boat…Ain’t dere no more 

A Schweikhardt’s float…Ain’t dere no more 

Beaconette…Ain’t dere no more 

Frank’s on Feret…Ain’t dere no more 

The Kiddie Store…No, that’s Broadmore! 

Wise’s…Ain’t dere no more 

Whatcha wanna see now…Across the river 

I’m goin back home..Comin with us 

Bridgebowl…Ain’t dere no more 

Keyhole…Ain’t dere no more 

Coulon’s, Borne’s…Hardware stores? 

Don’t tell me…Ain’t dere no more 

Belle Promenade Mall…Ain’t dere no more 

The stores ‘n all? …Ain’t dere no more 

Magnolia Grill…Ain’t dere no more 

Wego On The Hill…Ain’t dere no more 

Cellar Club…Ain’t dere no more 

It’s The Last Roundup…Ain’t dere no more 

Jacobson Young…Where the lights are strung 

We must be goin down…Carrollton 

Jim’s Fried Chicken…Ain’t dere no more 

Homeplate still kickin? …Ain’t dere no more 

Pelican Stadium…Ain’t dere no more

Lemme guess…Ain’t dere no more 

Security’s…Ain’t dere no more 

Rueter’s Seeds…Ain’t dere no more 

Cloverlands’ Cows…Ain’t dere no more 

Post Office Now? …Ain’t dere no more 

Gerard Chevrolet…(Impala 2-Door) 

Let me drive…Ain’t dere no more 

Whatcha wanna see now…Out by the lake 

I’m goin back home…Betta just wait 

The Bounty…Ain’t dere no more 

East End Bakery…Ain’t dere no more 

Schult’s got the…Fresh Hardware 

Bart’s…Ain’t hardly there 

Maggie and Smitty’s…Ain’t dere no more 

And all those kitties…Ain’t dere no more 

The My O My…Ain’t dere no more 

Bali Hai…Ain’t dere no more 

Dancing Fountains…Ain’t dere no more 

Just keep on countin…Ain’t dere no more 

Rosenberg’s…That’s The Name! 

18 - 25…Tu-lane 

Gus Betat’s, right…Ain’t dere no more 

Witcha’ Paw Paw’s bike…Ain’t dere no more 

Hadocol…Ain’t dere no more 

The Parades ‘n all…Ain’t dere no more 

Topaz…Where that went? 

Hi Balls…25¢ 

Miller The Killa’…A Real Killa’ Dilla’ 

Ain’t Dere No Mooorrre 

AIN’T NO PLACE TO PEE ON 

MARDI GRAS DAY 

(B. Antin) ©Anzel Anzel, BMI 

“I gotta go. I gotta go real bad. 

Ya’ll betta lemme inside, ya hear.” 

Ain’t no place to pee on Mardi Gras Day. 

Mardi Gras Day. 



No matter what you say, no matter what you pay 


Can’t pee till you get home on Mardi Gras Day. 




Even if you stay ten-thousand miles away 



You could burp, you could sneeze 

You could cough, and you could wheeze 

Wipe your nose right on your sleeve 

But can you pee on Mardi Gras Day? 

. . . . No way! 

You can’t pee in a taxi, that ain’t nice. 

That ain’t nice. 

OK, just this once, no more than twice. 

More than twice. 

But, if you leave a stain, 

you don’t have to be ashamed 

How you think them yella cabs 

they got that name? 

(Trombone solo) 

So you step outside your car ’cause ya had to go. 

Had to go. 

But they catch ya on the police video. Video. 

Say, “Wait, cha’ll mistaken. 

It’s a flood, the levee’s breakin’. 

And I’m evacuatin’ here with the contra-flow.” 

Rich folks get to pee on Mardi Gras Day. 


They get annoyed if they can’t void on 



So, they’re up there on their balconies 

they pee all over you and me’s 

Rich folks get to pee on Mardi Gras Day. 

I said there ain’t no place to pee, etc. . . 

If there ain’t no stalls when nature calls, 

I go in front’a Gawd n’all. 



(Big ending)

I said there ain’t no - No place to pee - 

On Mardi Gras Day. . .I gotta go, baby. 

I gotta go real bad. 

“But Officer, I thought the sign said Facility 

Street!” 

AT THE BEACH, AT THE BEACH 


(Chorus parts adapted from “By The Beautiful Sea,” 

Harold Atteridge/Harry Carrol, BMI, Public Domain) 

I rode the Bug, rode the Whip, Flyin’ Scooters, 

and the Planes Before I outgrew Kiddie-Land, 

I drove the boats and trains 

I seen Miss New Orleans, live out on the stage 

I seen the Human Cannonball, fireworks displays 

And you could hear the Zephyr, 

from the parking lot It climbed up to the top. . . 

then it starts to drop. . . 

(Chorus) 

At the beach, at the beach, 

at Pontchartrain Beach 

We had fun, we had fun, in the rain and the heat 

The fun’s all done, now there’s a fence 

’Cause they’re workin on experiments 

At Pontchartrain Beach 

Ya just got chocolate or vanilla, 

and the grown-ups had a bar 

And I ran every red light in the Bumper Cars 

And you could shoot real rifles, 

imagine that today 

But it wasn’t fun as comin out the Mirror Maze 

The Tilt-a-Whirl was squeaky 

The sno-balls, they was leaky 

But the clown out front of Laugh-In-The-Dark 

Was really kinda creepy. . . 

(Chorus) 

At the beach, at the beach, at Pontchartrain 

Beach 

We had fun, we had fun, in the rain and the heat 

I’d even wear a coat and tie 

to get back in the Bali-Hai 


The elephant and lion were the garbage cans 

They’d suck the trash right out you hand 

The Bath House and the Light House, 

the girls all hangin out 

Takin pictures where the clown said, 

“Please don’t climb inside my mouth.” 

Can ya still hear the Wild Maus? 

All that clackitty-clack 

Comin round the corner like it’s goin off the track 

The Fortune Teller Lady in the Penny Arcade 

She could tell your fortune, 

butcha just got to wait. . . 

“Everybody in the Penny Arcade! Let’s sing 

along!” 

(Crowd Chorus) 


at Pontchartrain Beach 

You’ll have fun, you’ll have fun 

every day of the week 

You’ll love the thrilling rides, 

laugh till you split your sides 


(Repeat Crowd Chorus) 


at Pontchartrain Beach,. . . 

. . . Now it’s some kinda’ research deal 

By the end of Elysian Fields 


CHRISTMAS IN CHALMETTE 


There’s a little town straight on down 

The Avenue of St. Claude 

With Our Lady of Prompt Succor Church 

In the Parish of St. Bernard 

I have been there, got-gown in there 

Alas, without regret 

It was a special time of year… 

Christmas in Chalmette (whistle) 

You could sail to Avondale 

across the hemispheres 

Ya oughta rode the ferry boat 

from Lower Coast Algiers

Straight ahead at Judge Perez go right, 

no wait that’s wrong 

So turn around by Tenneco, 

‘cept Tenneco is gone 

There’s manger scenes with laser beams 

blinkin off and on 

Just pull all the stuff you want 

right out on your front lawn 

Three Wise Kinds and angels 

sing to wooden reindeer heads 

Santa pose in Elvis clothes, 

it’s Christmas in Chalmette 

Wake up Christmas mornin to TV Ninja Wars 

Kids in shades and roller-blades 

playin new guitars 

Some guy got some Bond-O, 

he’s beatin out his dents 

Engines turnin up a bunch’a thousand RPM’s 

But sometimes late on Christmas Eve 

a ghost or two appears 

It’s Jean Lafitte and you say, 

John hey where’s your Buccaneers 

Don’t get smart with ghosts 

you meet at Chalmette Battlefield 

Don’t play with them ol’ cannons, 

‘cause they still can shoot for real (cannon) 

Excuse me if I’m giddy, 

but let’s not go back home 

I’ve had drive-thru daquiris in cups of styrofoam 

Let’s go down the road, 

we’ll get crabs soft-shelled 

Can’t leave this time of year 

Traffic’s bad as hell 

You was late because you caught the bridge 

and train and then 

Turned around and caught the train 

and caught the bridge again 

Did you take some Polaroids 

of every place you’ve been 

And visit sacred ruins like 

the St. Bernard Drive-In 

So lemme see the pictures, 

what they came out bad, for true 

Come back again take I-510, no-huh you that too 

You’re luck see, it on CD and audio cassette 

This is it, it ain’t no (buzzer) 

it’s Christmas in Chalmette 

Christmas in Chalmette… 

(ring…bark…ratchet…fog horn… 

breaking glass…cannon) 

Merry Christmas, Dawlin’… 

EVACUATION DAY 

(New B. Antin lyrics) ©Anzel Anzel, BMI 

(Adapted from “Graduation Day,” H. Schroeder and R. 

Wagner, White Cliff) 

You know we’ll all be totally fried - 

If we ever leave again 

Ever leave again - Ever leave again 

Ya’ll get off the sofa. Evacuation’s near 

Go ahead and ride it out, but me, I’m outta here 

Pack some Barq’s Cream Soda, 

enough for several days 

Buy a bunch of batteries, D’s and double A’s 

Over on the West Bank, 

ya betta go save ya Mama 

The bridge is free for evacuees, 

so you’ll even save a dolla’ 

Splat! The waves blow over the Twin Spans 

on I-10 

There’s the sign, I-59, 

so here we go again! 

Do do do do 

What just happened? Oh, no, it’s Contraflow! 

My GPS is freaking out. It don’t know where to go 

The radio fades way down low. 

Now it’s gettin’ louder 

It’s slow motion Twilight Zone 

at thirteen miles an hour 

Way past noon we’re just in Picayune, 

traffic’s at a crawl 

We’ll get some gas in Birmingham j 

ust in time for Mardi Gras 

Back the car up closer, over by the trees 

How come they got no bathrooms in Mississippi? 

Do do do do

I coulda been in Plaquemines, 

filling bags with sand 

I coulda went to Metry 

to help crank the pumps by hand 

Saturday I was watchin football, 

now Sunday I’m a refugee 

This woulda never happened 

if Nash Roberts was on TV 

When we stop to unpack, 

another one’s on the way 

And we will all remember, 

twice in one September, 

Evacuation Day - Evacuation, Evacuation 

Evacuation, Evacuation 

Evacuation. . . (traffic and horns). . . Day 

44 YEARS IN SHOW BIZ 

AND THIS IS FAR AS I GOT 


Well, I been forty four years in show biz, 

and this is far as I got 

Once I shared a marquis with Brenda Lee 

shoulda seen it in the parking lot 

Always thought I’d be on the charts 

that’s exactly where I’m not 

Forty four years in show biz, 


The transmission fell out of the tour bus 

in downtown Birmingham 

And the drummer fell out the window 

at the hotel in Cheyenne 

And I caught the flu in Kalamazoo 

got a rash at the old Frontier 

Hate to admit it but those are considered 

high points in my career 

And it’s been forty four years in show biz, 


Had me a van with the name of the band 

shoulda seen it the parkin lot 

You’da’ thought I’d been all over the charts 

that’s exactly where I’m not! 

Forty four years and I’m still right here, 


Well, I used to blame my agent, 

and the radio stations 

And the carbon dioxide crowd 

And, Lord, please save us from all bass players 

Who just play way too loud 

I’m throwin myself a party, invitin all of my friends 

Family and associates, 

who’s made me what I am 

Now, ya’ll hide behind the sofa 

and when the guest of honor arrives (“That’s me”) 

Time it just right, flip on the lights 

Everybody yell, “Surprise.” 

Let’s celebrate! (Guitar solo) 

Y’ain’t done much sinnin; you step right in.” 

And then he showed me to the waitin room. 

“See, ya’ life and your songs 

are so boring and long, 

we had to add a color cartoon.” So I said, 



That’s me the marquis, and the band in the van 

Here’s a picture from the parkin lot 

I guess I got some chances, 

they let me shoot my shot 

Forty four years, I better like it here, 

’cause this is far as I got 

Well, it’s been forty four years in show biz, 


I had some dreams, but now it seems 

might’a left ’em in the parkin lot 

Thought I’d save my wages and retire in Vegas 

That’s exactly where I’m not 



Forty four years, I’m glad I like it here 

’Cause right here’s far as I got

FRIDAY NITE 

(THE NEIGHBORHOOD MOVIE 

THEATERS OF NEW ORLEANS) 


Friday Nite. Where’d ja go? 

Talk about the drugstore 

and the neighborhood show 

Friday Nite, ya mama’s cookin fish-sticks 

Friday Nite, callin all ya side-kicks 

Friday Nite. Where’d Uptown go? 

K&B’s drugstore and the Happyhour show! 

Coliseum, National, Napoleon, Popla 

Mecca, Gallo, Fine Arts, Granada 

Lincoln, Laurel, Roxy, Prytania 

Walk in the Garden and the screen’s 

in the back’a ya’ 

We don’t need no drive-in speakers 

Hangin on the window lettin in mosquitos 

We don’t need no all-star cast 

We ain’t goin Downtown, we ain’t hi-class 

It’s just Gentilly, butcha betta be good 

’Cause the Fox and the Tiger’s by Gentilly Woods 

Kenilworth Cinema, Peacock show 

The Plaza, the Pitt, Luigi’s, Taco-Tico 

Nico’s, Zeros, Jujubes, 

Step right up say, “One child, please.” 



Friday Nite. Where’d Metry go? 

Zesto’s ice cream, and the Areon show! 

Lakeside One-Two, the Jeff, Arrow 

The Metry, Grand, Joy’s, the Patio 

Galleria, Rivertown, Rocky Horror, Sena Mall 

Cinema 8, Esplanade, pretty much seen all a ya’ll 

(Bridge) We don’t need no. . . 

Dreamland, Happyland, Pics, and the Town 

De’ruin’s, Famous, Delta, and the Crown 

The Arabi, the Violet, the Bijou on Poland 

The Dolla’ Show’s a dollar. 

And Gawd bless the Nola 

Frost Top root beer, one to go 

Cross the street to the Arabi show 



Friday Nite. Where’d Lakeview go? 

Harrison Drugstore and the Lakeview show! 

They had the Lakeview, the Beacon, 

the Robert E. Lee 

That’s all they had?! Yep, just those three 

But the Carrollton, Cortez, Ashton, Imperial 

Right in Mid City by the Bell, and Escorial 

(Bridge) 

We don’t need no. . . 

Circle, Delta, Rivoli-Ravolee 

Isis, Gaiety, Tivoli-Tavolee 

The Clabon’s gone, the Carver ain’t around 

And the I-10’s up on the neutral ground 

King Creole, The Shrinking Man 

Tammy, Gidget, Yosemite Sam 



Friday Nite. Where’d the Westbank go? 

Abalon Theatre, R-N-O Late Show! 

Gordon, Gem, Oakwood, Hollywood 

Royal, Beverly, Westside, Folly 

Would ja’ go to the Algy, Hut to the Tower? 

All gone, nada, like the Belle Promanad’a 

Friday Nite, the Lake and the Star 

Friday Nite, over on the Northshore 

Friday Nite. If we all could still go 

Friday Nite. To ya neighborhood show. . . .

GARBAGE NITE 


“OK, all you coolest of cats and ladies. 

Direct from a three night gig at Martin Brothers 

on St. Claude, 

with tonight’s first recitation is ‘Benny Bartlow and 

The Existential Lucky Dog Trio.’Go ahead, Benny. 

Make us one-with-everything. . .” 

South from the mouth of the Orleans Canal 

all the way to Avondale Homes 

Brave young men walk into the dark 

down to the curb all alone 

Some start at seven, others later, eleven 

and probably for the rest of their lives 

On a job they must keep, twice every week 

on accounta’ it’s Garbage Nite 

Before halogen lighting, before recycling 

when trash cans had rust and dents 

Garbage had class, Coke bottles were glass 

their deposit worth all of two cents 

No rubber-made cans with slots for your hands 

no neutral colors, no wheels 

And when drug on cement,they howled in discontent 

A real man’s garbage can made of steel 

(Very-cool, be-bop chorus) 

A no-special-knowledge 

or community college job for the rest of your life 

Show you’re a man. Drag out them cans, 

on accounta’ it’s Garbage Nite 

Now the bags could be drastic, 

not yet made of plastic, 

just grocery bags, paper, light brown 

And they were super-absorbent. 

That sounds real important, 

but not when you’ve got hot coffee grounds 

The KB bags were purple, but still never worked 

till you’d double’em up the small to the largest. 

They smelled drug-store clean, 

but burst at the seam 

KB bags was no place for garbage 

So, ya gotta’ think fast. 

Set that bag down in the grass, 

but the grass is all wet, oh, that’s wrong. 

Out comes old TV dinners, 

and used up creme-rinses 

now you got garbage all over the lawn 

Fish-sticks, Air-wicks, 

a Classic Comic “Moby Dick,” 

burned up Easy Pop popcorn, 

And it’s startin to smell like oyster-shell-hell 

bad as West End on Saturday mornin 


Then you got roaches big as 

Greyhound coaches, 

the smart ones that run, jump, and fly 

Can you feel the pressure? 

They’re comin to get’cha’ 

You can hear ’em in a small box of Tide 

OK, you roaches. This here’s buenos noches, 

I’m packin a can of Gulf-Spray 

Then blast ’em up plenty, they’re holed up 

in a empty half-gallon of Gallo Tokay 

Though you feel like the Loan Ranger, 

’cause these hombres are dangerous, 

there’s a yell through the back window fan, 

“Hey, that’s for the mosquitoes - 

now they all gonna eat us 

Don’t waste no Gulf-Spray 

in them old garbage cans” 


One more time! (Very-very cool, be-bop chorus, 

with “bop- bop-ba’-dee-dot” lyrics) 

Well, now it’s way past twenty, 

past forty was plenty, 

past fifty years takin out the trash 

Down the alley, out front, in the back, 

where ever you want it. 

I’ll step in and give it a smash 

And to you who entrusted 

those first dented and rusted 

garbage cans into my young hands 

If it’s Garbage Nite. . .Yeah, ya rite. . . 

I’m still your Garbage Man 

(Very-very-very cool “bop-bop-ba’-dee-dot” slowswing 

chorus) 

On accounta’ it’s Garbage Nite. . .yeahhhh

“. . .I think I’ve heard these cats before. . . 

out in San Bernadino. . .” 

GOTTA GET A BAND/BRING ME 

BACK - PART 2 


(This, also, is the original audio version from 1974. No 

enhancements, no fillers or artificial ingredients. For 

betta’ or worse’a - here it is.) 

Yeah, wasn’t too long ago; maybe it was. 

Ridin down Canal Boulevard 

on my Simplex, pulled 

into Rockery Inn to try out my straight pipes. 

The parkin lot was full - 

Chuggin’ Chariots, Road Rebels 

were there. But all the cars 

with the finest girls had 

names on the back, 

like Jokers, Corvettes, Contours. 

So I figured right then and there - 

if I was ever gonna get any chicks, 

I Gotta Get A Band. 

So first ya need a name, 

ain’t gonna be easy ’cause all the 

good ones are used up 

Counts, Saxons, Emperors, Nobles. 

Gotta be original - 

Esquires, Skyliners. Let’s see. . . 

The Beatles. . .nahh, 

a name like that’d never make it. 

Uhh, Edsels...yeah, 

The Edsels. Now, that’s a name, 

a name that could go on forever. 

Now, I know a band doesn’t just 

happen over night; 

gotta get some clothes, 

get some coats from the Hollywood 

Tailors on Rampart Street. 

Got to go to Dr. Schreiber’s to get 

some sunglasses for when I sing 

“Tell Me What I Say.” 

I wonder if ya gotta be in the 

Musicians Union to wear 

sunglasses? Seen a guitar in the window at 

Abe’s, a set of 

bongo drums. Yeah, that’s all you need. 

Anything else, we’ll 

get it from the Eagle Loan Company. 

And that’ll be it. . .’cept maybe 

five or six saxophone players. 

Then ya gotta figure what songs ya gonna play. 

If we work at Sacred Heart 

we’re gonna need a lotta fast 

dances at the beginning of the night, 

’cause all the girls’ll 

be dancin together. 

We’ll do “Ten Thousand Dollar Reward,” 

“Call Me The 

Fat Man,” Shirley and Lee things like 

“Feel So Good,” 

and “Good Times Roll.” Later, when the guys start 

dancin, we can do 

“Big Diamonds,” “Walkin Slowly 

From You Darlin’,” 

do the whole Johnny Ace album, 

“Valley Of Tears,” and “Taint It The Truth.” 

How about makin a record. 

Bound to make out then. 

Girls dig bands with hit records. 

I heard Jimmy Clanton 

and Frankie Ford make records 

at a place called Cosmo’s, 

on Governor Nicholls Street. 

Think a’ that, live appearances with 

Jack The Cat, Saturday 

Hop, on stage at Pontchartrain Beach 

with a big rock’n roll 

show with Roland Stone. 

Man, we might even get big 

enough some day to play 

the Saint Anthony dance. 

I know if I had a record out, 

Poppa Stoppa would play it. 

Maybe The Hound Dog, 

or Dan Diamond’d play it. 

Try to get Herb Holiday. 

All my friends would call up and 

request it on WJMR and WJBW. 

It’ll be on a big national 

label like Minit or Ace. 

Make a lotta money. 

When I make

a lotta money, I’m gonna sell my Cushman Eagle. 

Sell it?...I’ll give it away. 

I’m gonna get me a Harley Hummer. Hummer?! 

I’m gonna get me a One-Sixty-Five. 

Can’t miss, there’s so many places to play - 

Redemptorist, St. Henry’s CYO, 

Metairie Lodge, Germania Hall, 

and The Walnut Room 

out by the Lakefront Airport. 

When we get older 

we can play big time night clubs, take 

The Sparks place at The Swamp Room. 

Opposite Danny White at The Safari, 

do The Alibi, set up 

an autograph table at Natal’s, 

The Sabu, The Sands 

on Saint Charles, play real late jam sessions at 

The Brass Rail, 

and The Monkey Bar. 

We’ll be too famous to hang around 

The College Inn. 

After the jobs, we’ll all go over to Pappa Joe’s. 

Bobby Mitchell - Big Boy Miles - Benny Spellman 

- 

Ernie K Doe - Frogman - Esqurita - 

Tommy Ridgley - 

Earl King - Sugar Boy and The Sugar Lumps - 

Eddie Bo - 

What we need here is a battle of the bands - 

Somebody call up Earl Stanley 

IF FEBRUARY 7TH WAS ALL 

SAINTS DAY 


Saint Charles has got a Hotel, he’s got a Avenue 

Saint Joan of Arc saved Orleans, 

we’re Orleans #2 

Saint Joseph’s got the altars, 

the cookies and the cake 

Saint Christopher watches over you 

when drivin ’cross the Lake 

They done alota’ miracles, long-long ago 

But if they’d pitch in and help us 

win another Super Bowl 

We’d visit the Archbishop, 

and ’fess-up all our sins 

Then take him out to dinner, 

cross the street at College Inn 

We’re askin Mother Superior if she thinks it’s OK 

If February 7th was All Saints Day 

All Saints Day - All Saints Day - 


Saint Peter and Saint Paul Street, Saint Louis to 

Saint Ann Saint John’s Court, Saint Ferdinand 

Saint Maurice, a nice little street 

that goes across Saint Claude 

Just a couple’a blocks 

from the parish of Saint Bernard 

We promise to put up the street signs 

and patch up all the holes 

If they help again and let us win 

another Super Bowl 

We’ll still bring flowers to the cemetery 

Butcha might hear somethin out the ordinary 

It’s just a little cheering from those 

who’ve passed away 


All Saints Day - All Saints Day - 


Saint Anthony’s on Canal Street, 

Saint Anthony’s, West Bank, too 

I know just what I’m talkin ’bout, 

I went to Catlick’ school 

Saint Francis Xavier, Metry Road; 

Saint Francis, Destrehan 

Saint Rita’s school on Fontainbleau; 

Saint Rita’s, Harahan 

We’d be on best behavior, or make the honor-roll 

Even pay up our tuition, for another Super Bowl 

All etc. . . All etc. . . All etc. . . 

If February 7th was All - Saints - Day

I GOT A USED KAZOO 

FOR CHRISTMAS 


I got a used kazoo for Christmas (kazoos) 

It’s kinda smooshed 

but what’s the difference (kazoo) 

I don’t lend it out to strangers (kazoo) 

Kazoos are hardly ever dangerous (kazoo) 

I’m fixin a sammich to send to Santa (Fa la) 

Delta air-freight through Atlanta (Fa la) 

Don’t need to be refrigerated (Fa la) 

‘Cause I just now accidently ate it (Fa la) 

Hey Baby, kick it for me! 

I’m asked to sing with the 

Yacht Club Chorus (Fa la) 

The Commodore will just adore us (Fa la) 

The members say we’re all improving (Fa la) 

Perhaps, I’ll even shake-my-groove-thing (Fa la) 

(Opera Lady & Sammich guy (Fa la) 

So every day and all night long (Car alarm) 

I set-off my car alarm (Car alarm) 

The neighbors yelled, “Hey get a job!” (Car alarm) 

Then turned into an angry mob (Car alarm) 

(Kazoo and Car alarm play 

O Come All Ye Faithful) 

I shouldn’t have no carbonation (Fa la & burps) 

Says so on my medication (Fa la & burps) 

I was at this party having a soda (Fa la & burps) 

La burp la la burp, la la burp (Fa la & burps) 

A warm root-beer, then a diet-cola (Fa la & burps) 

(Kazoo Kid, Opera Lady & Car alarm Fa la) 

I got a part time job this fall (Kazoo) 

I’m a reindeer at the mall (Kazoo) 

I wear hoffies on my toes (Kazoo) 

And a light with batteries up my nose (Kazoo) 

(Raindeer girl with batteries in her nose, Opera 

Lady, Sammich guy & Kazoo Fa la) 

(Everybody joins in) 

I got a used kazoo for Christmas (kazoos) 

It’s kinda smooshed 

but what’s the difference (kazoo) 

I don’t lend it out to strangers (kazoo) 

Kazoos are hardly ever dangerous (kazoo) 

(Everybody Fa la) 

(Everybody Fa la) 

I THINK I JUST SEEN ELVIS IN 

THE MILDEW ON MY WALLS 


I know that it ain’t Jesus, 

’cause he don’t wear sunglasses 

It’s way too tall, not small at all, 

it ain’t Jacqueline Onassis 

Too dark for Michael Jackson, 

too light to be Ray Charles. . . 

I think I just seen Elvis in the mildew on my walls 

Well, ya heard about the flood, 

left us up to here in crud 

Ya heard about the sludge and all the lootin 

So I went back in with Draino, 

Mop’n’Glo, and Brillo 

Then mixed me up some Oxyclean solution 

But while bagless vacuum cleanin’, 

suddenly I seen it 

Made my 20 Mule Team Borax turn cold 

Underneath the portrait 

of my Uncle Eddie’s trailer 

I shouldn’t tell nobody else, 

but what the heck, here goes! 

I know that it ain’t Jesus, 



it ain’t Jacqueline Onassis 




Now here comes television cameras, 

reporters gone bananas 

We got Homeland Security and FEMA 

Scientists takin samples, 

the crowds all wavin candles 

And a senior group on a bus from Pasadena

The Star, The Insider, The National Inquirer 

Satellite and Newstalk Radio 

Some network lady with the perfect hair says, 

“Quiet now, goin on the air 

Live with breaking news at ten, 

here’s what we know - 

“We know that it ain’t Jesus, ’ 

cause he don’t wear sunglasses 


ain’t Jacqueline Onassis 



We think we just seen Elvis 

in the mildew on his walls” 

“Now look,” I finally said, “hey ya’ll, 

ya drive me up this wall.” 

Then I washed the whole thing off, 

and they never come back no more 

I said, “Man, I’m glad that’s over. 

Sure wish I had a sofa.” 

And for the first time since the flood 

I closed the door 

Behind it was this note some looters musta wrote 

Said, “Sorry, but there wasn’t much to steal.” 

But underneath that painting 

hat says Uncle Eddie’s Trailer, Something kinda 

creeped us out, so we left it hang right here - 

Here’s the deal, 

“We know that it ain’t Jesus, 



ain’t Jacqueline Onassis 



I think we just seen Elvis 

in the mildew on your walls” 


METAIRIE O METAIRIE 

(Benny ‘Grunch Antin) ©2003 Anzel-Anzel, BMI 

Metairie O Metairie, Take Veterans go Westerly 

Startin from Lake Avenue, 

Wavin to construction crews 

Ya betta not get jet propelled, 

There’s Kenner Cops past Roosevelt 

But Metry Cops O Metry Cops, 

They don’t make no traffic stops 

They don’t file police reports, 

At the Bucktown Civil District Court 

They don’t send out for onion rings, 

‘Cause Metry Cops... Ain’t no such thing 

And that’s how come we’ll never watch, 

A cable show called Metry Cops 

Chasin guys like the ones you see, 

In undershirts on Real TV 

Metairie, Metairie, M-E-T-A-I-R-I-E 

That’s the way that it’s supposed to be, 

But me; I say Metry 

Lakeside Mall O Lakeside Mall, 

Looka that big crowd n’all 

In tennis shoes at mornin’ time, 

walkin fast for exercise 

I’m keepin up but it’s gettin wierd, 

Walkin fast while you’re drinkin beer 

So I’m checkin out rhe parkin lot, 

A zillion yellow parkin spots 

They’re puttin up the Christmas star, 

And viewing stands for Mardi Gras 

Metry Cabs O Metry Cabs, 

Get mad when you eat boiled crabs 

Jumbo shrimps that’s barbequed, 

Sno-balls that make your teeth turn blue 

But Metry cabs get really glad, 

When ya’ wanna’ go to...”Beau Revadge”? 

(Metairie, Metairie...chorus) 

Grocery stores O Grocery stores, 

Caution Automatic Doors ! 

I went to The Real Supa Store, I forgot... 

Ain’t Dere No More 

I’m tryin to improve my mind, 

Readin tabloids in the check-out line

I read that Harry Lee was the chauffera, 

Waitin outside for Operha 

She was chowin down at Sal ‘n Sams, 

With Elvis and a alien 


Metry Lawn O Metry Lawn, 

Great place to go when you are gone 

By the end of I-610, 

Right there by your Mamma,n Nem 

That’s where I’ll take my final bow, 

But maybe not just right right now 


Metairie, Metairie; 834- and 833- 

Sorry you caught termites in your trees, 

But I still like Metry 

Metairie, Metairie; 

Where ya’ hardly never ever freeze 

But when I got my allergies, I can still say Metry 

I just say Metry; Me, I say Metry 

NORRIS THE 

NOCTURNAL NUTRIA 


Norris was a Nutria 

Who could not get to sleep 

Playin on the lawn all night long 

At #3 Cypress Tree 

Norris thought he was way too big 

To stay on his own front lawn 

He swam in the dark to West End Park 

And tunneled into a restaurant 

Momma and Daddy sat Norris down 

With his pals on the nutrial-ground 

Hey it’s Christmas time, 

if you’re not gonna sweat it 

Layin wide awake in the nest ain’t gonna get it 

Every kid who grows, Santa knows 

Every time they sleep and eat 

If you can’t find sheep, ya better count Jeeps 

Or try warm milk with Nutria Sweet, they said 

Norris, you’re a Nocturnal Nutria 

Norris, don’t know what we’re gonna do witcha’ 

Norris, better think about your futura 

You and all your pals, out in the canals 

Swimmin after dark at West End Park 

We don’t know where you’re goin 

We don’t know where you been 

But Santa don’t come till you’re really tucked in 

Norris at bed time Christmas Eve 

Made a stretch, did some yawns 

Set the alarm, put his jammies on 

Brushed his teeth till they were nice and orange 

Norris wrote a Santa note 

He wants a watch, a soccer ball 

A jet-ski boat so he can float 

In Reverse and Drive and Nutrial 

Poor little Norris gotta be nocturnal 

Sittin up in bed with the Ladies Home Journal 

Tried CNN, elevator-FM 

That’s when he thought he heard Santa come in 

It was just a frog on the living room log 

Santa stopped to take his pill 

‘Fore he had to tromp through 

the whole wide swamp 

Santa fell asleep at the Bar & Grill 

(Norris chorus) 

(West-End chorus) 

Now it’s light of day, check out Santa’s sleigh 

It’s full of dings from the parking lot 

And Mrs. Clause don’t like no bars 

But Santa knew he had to make on more stop 

So not it’s mornin, Norris is snoring 

Santa looked at his lap-top screen 

Norris didn’t pout, he kinda watched out 

Guess I’ll go ahead and leave him everything, 

he said 

Norris, you’re a Nocturnal Nutria 

Norris, don’t know what we’re gonna do witch 

Norris, this is what I got for ya

A night-time pass to the Sno-Ball Stand 

An underwater watch with an alligator band 

Gotcha soccer ball, no jet-ski yet 

But here’s a little nutria size bullet proof vest 

(Norris chorus) 

(West-End chorus) 

O LITTLE TOWN OF DESTREHAN 

(Benny “Grunch” Antin)© Anzel Anzel, BMI 

O Little Town of Destrehan 

You’re still just about three miles 

From end to end where I-310 

Has large and small reptiles 

Yet way out on the Interstate 

There’s everlasting light 

It’s gas they blow from Shell Norco 

You see it every night 

Plantations grand, O there they stand 

The stuff they used to grow 

Was southern-fried and quick freeze-dried 

Two centuries ago 

If you’re too poor to take a tour 

And don’t have time to wait 

Try new Sarpy’s US Post Office 

Seven double-O Seven Eight 

Yes…they, really jam in Destrehan 

But that’s not all there is 

Ormand Estates’ a real great place 

To bring up all your kids 

And in the dark you’ll find it 

If it’s late don’t make a sound 

‘Cause they’ve got class and lots of cash 

So they get a neutral-ground 

There’s Pakistan and Big Cheyenne 

Rio Grande and Bantustan 

Harahan to Tammany 

And Clarence Frogman Henry 

But if you get lost in Destrehan 

And don’t know where you are 

Take a right at any light 

But don’t get out your car 

If something dark and slimy 

With teeth is in your seat 

You did just fine, you’re on Airline 

In the swamp across the street 

So good night, little Destrehan 

Give us a big go-cup 

We gave away the mosquito spray 

And the kids are all bit up 

But guess who’s going on a cruise 

Before we get to old 

To Disneyland of Afghanistan 

Which ever one’s not closed 

Guess I’ll never see Afghanistan 

It it ain’ on River Road. 

OVER BY YOUR MAMA’N NEM 


In the summer we’d wait on the screen porch 

For the song that the ice cream truck played 

Run getcha nickels, to buy ya popsicles 

Sometimes he’d pass twice a day 

Then we would drag chairs out on the front lawn, 

The metal ones that were round on the back 

Sometimes they’d be yellow, 

now they’re just rusty metal 

The sidewalk had grass through the cracks 

Over By Your Mama’n Nem, 

Over By Your Mama’n Nem 

You wish you could go, butcha can’t no more 


Remember how ya took lotsa buses 

And ya probably never been on a plane 

Did’ja start some vacations 

at the Greyhound Station 

Your relatives came down on the train 

Did your uncle pull up in his big car 

The dashboard was covered with chrome 

The radio stations had autolocations 

Hard to believe they’re all gone 

(Chorus)





The clothes on the line, a new silver dime 

The Fuller Brush Man, the attic fan 

The grocery store had a double screen door 

Run the hose on your slide, 

your street seemed so wide 

Your house might have been on the corner 

Just three or four doors away 

Maybe that spot next to the old vacant lot 

The one where we hung out all day 

(Chorus) 





(Repeat chorus) 





RED LIGHT CAMERAS AND POT- 

HOLES FOR AULD LANG SYNE 


Adapted from “Auld Lang Syne”, by Scottish poet Robert 

Burns (1759-1796) 

Has all the maintenance been forgot 

on the cameras fighting crime. 

Instead there’s cameras on red-lights; 

till we’re all hit from behind. 

Till we’re all hit from behind (rear ended!). 

All hit from behind. 

Ya’ wait for a picture of ya’ license plate. (Then) 

pay a fine for auld lang syne. 

Could all the storm-drains be so clogged, 

they can’t never drain the rain. 

The pumps all pump but the water wont dump 

into Lake Pontchartrain. 

What’s clogging up the drains this year? 

What’s clogging up our drains? 

Might be the missing evidence 

from the Courthouse on Tulane. 

Our deepest potholes go “ker-schplott” 

when they swallow compact cars. 

We need the “S.U.V.-Curiosity”, 

like they drive around on Mars. 

Like we’re drivin’ round on Mars down here. 

Like we’re drivin’ round on Mars. 

And ya’ know it’s bad. Now I’m really sad. 

We got more potholes than bars. 

For all the potholes, all the drains. 

All the red light camera fines. 

We get to sneak a peak, three days a week. 

At the Times Picayune for Auld Lang Syne. 

SANTA AND HIS REINDEER GOT 

THEIR MODULAR HOME 

(Benny Grunch Antin)© Anzel Anzel, BMI 

“All aboard for the Siberian Express. 

If you got a problem with bein’ frightfully cold, 

and you ridin’ this train? 

Baby, you ‘bout to have a bad day.” 

Santa got a loan, got a modular home, and the 

reindeer shouted out with glee...”Yeahhh! 

Man, let’s blow this popsicle stand, 

and move someplace we ain’t gotta’ freeze.” 

So they packed the sleigh tight, 

UPS’d it Overnite; Santa said 

“Everybody dress warm, 

On account we’re gonna catch 

The Siberian Express. 

That sled’s gonna’ be there 

10:00AM tomorrow mornin’.” 

Santa and his reindeer got their modular home 

and their movin in right next door. 

Said, it’s too cold up here for even reindeers’ 

ears. We don’t wanna’ be cold no more. 

Mrs. Claus was in Florida on Christmas vacation. 

Left the elves by themselves at the 

Amtrack Station, through sleet, snow, and hail.

And the Road Home check is in the mail. 

The Road Home check is in the mail. 

They rode that train through Siberian terrain, 

as they told some North Pole stories, 

Like wearin’ ice skates across the Bearing Straits. 

And Rudolf led a dog sled 

through Yukon Territory. 

Came in through Montana to North Alabama, 

where they manufacture modular homes. 

Put it on the truck, everybody wished ‘em luck. 

Santa’s at the wheel with the CB microphone. 

Santa and his reindeer...etc... 

Mrs. Claus...etc... 

(Santa plays harmonica) 

Santa got a loan, got a modular home, and the 

reindeer shouted out with glee...”Yeahh! 

Man, let’s can this popsicle stand, and move 

someplace we ain’t gotta’ freeze...Yeah!” 


Sleet, snow, hale. And the Road Home 

check is in the mail. 


If we miss the Polar mammals 

we’ll turn on the Travel Channel... 


It’s too cold up here for little reindeers... 

“Listen up, everybody. 

e got celebrity passengers on the train today, 

Santa and his reindeer. Let’s hear it for ‘em. 

(clap-clap-clap...) 

Say, Santa where ya’ll headed to?” 

“Well, we’re all movin down to New-Orleens. 

Might get a little storm. 

But it shure is warm!” (“Ha ha ha ha ha ha...”) 

SANTA AND HIS REINDEER USED 

TO LIVE RIGHT HERE 


Siding on the sides, washer in the rear 

Santa and his reindeer used to live right here 

Here’s a Christmas story t 

hatcha probably didn’t know 

Like most Christmas stories 

happened long time ago 

In a renovated double near 

Broad and St. Bernard 

Lived a fat little hippy with some livestock 

in his yard 

There was elves in and out, a refrigerated van 

People thought it was a day-care 

or a Sno-Ball stand 

Been a bunch of tenants, been a bunch of years 

But Santa and his reindeer used to live right here 

Time Saver save time, spent a lot of dimes 

Reindeer need a lot of Icees in the summertime 

Working through the rain, 

through Betsy’s Hurricane 

Wasn’t just playin no reindeer games 

Blitzen went to McDonaugh, 

Rudolf went to Colton School 

It was rough bein reindeer 

‘fore reindeer were cool 

Dasher went to Warren Easton, 

Donna went to Sacret Heart 

She didn’t make the dances 

but they’d meet in City Park 

Porch in the front, yard in the back 

Still got toys in the attic in the sack 

Siding on the sides, washer in the rear 


Sold a little toys, paid a little rent 

Made deliveries on the street car, 

it was only seven cents 

They needed somethin’ bigger 

for a bigger operation 

Doin lotta Greyhound Waitin-At-The-Station 

They were looking at a four-door Oldsmobile 

Instead bought a sleigh out the News On Wheels

Added power-steering, added power-brakes 

Had that sled painted red at Fact-O-Bake 

It would magically propel, but park parallel 

But you know Rudolf, 

he don’t wanna wear no helmet 

Traffic, weather, “we really wanna stay” 

Oh, Santa’s pretty tired 

getting his sleigh towed away 

Ok, you know where they went, 

OK you know it’s cold up there 

Ok, you know it’s in the middle of everywhere 

I wanna make it plain, I wanna make it clear 


(rap chorus) 

(sing chorus) 

(rap chorus) 

(sing chorus) 

SANTA PUT THE HURT ON YOU 

(R. Lewis) (Adaptation: Benny “Grunch” Antin) ©Anzel 

Anzel, BMI 

Ain’t no use in getting up early this mornin 

Santa put the hurt on you 

Might as well go back to sleep and turn off your 

alarm ‘n now cause 


He made up a list and called me once or twice 


I told him that you wasn’t even half way nice, so 


(Saxophone solo with 

“Santa put the hurt on you”) 

You wouldn’t eat your vegegables, 

you wouldn’t go to bed 


Shoulda never got a tattoo 

on the top of your head, well 


You stay down by your grandma 

‘cause she needs company 


Then I seen you both at spring-break on MTV 


(Saxaphone solo with “Santa put the hurt on 

you”) 

So ain’t no use in getting up early this mornin 


He ate the cookies, drank the milk, then he was 

gone ‘n now 


(Saxaphone solo with 

“Santa put the hurt on you”) 

(Piano solo with “Santa put the hurt on you”) 

OM THE CITY PARK LAGOON 


When it’s finally dark in City Park, 

the Creature goes outside 

He can’t stand no more TV Land, 

so he rubs his yellow eyes 

He’s got scales and a tale; 

when he exhales, people run away 

His fins are flat; except for that, 

he’s pretty much OK 

But they say, “Watch out, here he comes 

Watch out, here he comes 

Watch out, here he comes! 

Watch out, here he comes!!” 

He’s the Creature (Aaahhh!) 

from the City Park Lagoon 

And he’d cause a fright in broad day light, 

so he can’t go out too soon 



But he always gets in VooDoo Fest, 

’cause they think he’s pretty cool 

He loves to drive the golf carts, 

and he likes the Carousel 

Ya here that Little Train late at night? 

That’s him all by himself 

But he really wants a sno-ball, red or blue or lime 

So one day he just made up his mind,

and he goes to get in line 

Everybody said, “Watch out. . .etc. . .” 

He’s the Creature. . .etc. . . 

Scales instead of toenails, a fin right down his 

back 

He’s enough to make Frankenstein. . . 

A scaredy cat 

One night at dark in City Park 

a man with a Cadillac car said, 

“Hey, you with the fins, hop on in. 

Ya wanna be a movie star?” 

Well, it’s TV with reality, 

twice weekday afternoons 

It’s a double feature, 

and he’s The Creature 

From The City Park Lagoon 

They’ll say, “Watch out. . .etc. . .” 

He’s the Creature (Yeaahh!) 


And he comes on right before the news, 

weekday afternoons 

He’s the Creature (Yeaahh!) 


He’s a featured guest at VooDoo Fest, 

with a star on his dressing room 



With his very own line of hair-care-slime, 

with Vidal Sassoon 



He’s got a full page interview 

in the Times Picayune. . . 

. . .“Well, hey there, Mr. Lagoon. My little kitty-kat 

here, Tiggy (mmeoww), 

he just loves the way you smell”. . . 

THE ELVES FINALLY RAP 


We, called ya’ll together 

and we’re glad you’re here 

Letcha’ know how us elves we really feel 

‘Bout the toys and the shop 

and the gear for the deer 

We’re finally rappin. Can you hear us in the rear? 

We’re gonna start right out with a few surprises 

We’re all two feet tall but different sizes 

Like Relf here can eat three pizza piezes 

Is that right, Relfy? “Yeah, surprises.” 

Can we ride the roller coaster?…”Gotta be tall” 

Get a Bay Watch poster?…”Too small” 

Drive in the bumper cars?…”Gotta be tall” 

Play electric guitars…”Too small” 

Shoot a BB rifle…”Gotta be tall” 

Motorcycle…”No way at all!” 

When you’re two feet tall 

where the north wind blows 

Life can be cold when you live at the pole 

These ain’t our beards, ain’t really our hats 

And really these shoes. 

Where’d they get them at? 

Say “Nobody’s feet really looks like that.” 

Melfin here speaks Elfin if you need a translator 

Manuelf is a glacier skater 

You met Relph, elevator operator 

Ol’ Delf is a Elfis impersonator. “Ooooo!” 

(chorus) 

When you’re two feet tall 

where the north wind blows 

Life can be cold if you live at the pole 

Tired of needin somebody big with me 

Tired of seein movies all rated with G 

Saturday we gotta pile in the sleigh 

With Mrs. Clause, it’s her grocery day

With her jewelry and her list 

and her hair all sprayed 

She’s a little old lady who drives this way 

With her head all back like she’s lookin up 

But she can’t see over no reindeer butts 

And we’re holdin on screamin’ 

like we must be nuts 

But she won’t were her glasses 

and her eyes freeze shut 

If you’re two feet tall where the north wind blows 


If you’re two feet tall where the north wind blows 


(chorus) 

Used to carry finger paint, cellophane tape 

Maybe every now and then get a case of live bait 

“AahhIIII?” Now they’re getting in shape 

Guess what? (clunk) The kids want weights 

“We might just come up to your knees” 

Need hiking, biking. “Like you might not freeze.” 

Get outside with the birds and the bees 

Elfa-curricular activities 

We got no birds and bees at the pole 

Well I guess we got penguins if the truth be told 

After four hundred years the job’s still happenin 

We got a chance here ‘cause the Elves be rappin’ 

THE G.E.D. FIGHT SONG 


Gimme a G...(G---!) Gimme a E...(E---!) 

Gimme a D...(D---!) 

My Brudda’ in law went to Tulane ’n all 

He’s a certified PhD 

Acts like a snob, but he can’t get a job 

With his Doctor of Philosophy 

I told him, try to get hired before you get fired 

Don’t go talkin like Socrates 

Tell ’em thatcha gonna wanna be a plumma 

So ya workin on ya G.E.D. 

(Sing Along) 

Try to get hired, before ya get fired 

Don’t say nuthin ’bout Philosphy 

Don’t act like a snob, and ya might get a job 

Who cares aboutcha PhD 

I dropped outta school, turned out pretty cool 

Hey, just look at me 

Academically misguided, but never been indicted 

And I got my G.E.D. 

G.E.D. - In your own spare time! Rah! Rah! Rah! 

G.E.D. - Night school or right on line! 

Fight! Fight! Fight! 

Reunion Committee, they’re still tryin to give me 

Pictures from the senior trip 

My Permanent Record must be infected 

They shoulda knew by now I quit 

Got no pieces of the goal post 

Wasn’t hot for the Homecoming Queen 

Never had to get bombed at no high school prom 

’Cause I got my G.E.D. 

G.E.D. - In your own spare time! Rah! Rah! Rah! 

G.E.D. - Night school or right on line! 

Fight! Fight! Fight! Yeahhh. . . 

Try to get hired, before ya get fired 

Don’t say nuthin ’bout Philosphy 

Don’t act like a snob, and ya might get a job 

Who cares aboutcha PhD 

I dropped outta school, turned out pretty cool 

Hey, just look at me 

Academically misguided, but never been indicted 

And I got my G.E.D. 

Gimme a G...(G---!) Gimme a E...(E---!) 

Gimme a D...(D---!) 

Gimme a I...(I---!) Gimme a T...(T---!) 

At DEL...(At DEL!) GADA...(GADA!) 

Tell me, Whadda ya got. . . 

“GED-IT-AT-DEL-GADA?”. . . 

Yeahhh! 

I got thrown outta St. Aloysius in 1963 

So I had to go to Delgada’ and I got my G.E.D. 

(General Equivalency Diploma!) 

And I Got My G.E.D. . . . Got My G.E.D. 

THE HUBIGS PIES

BOOGIE WOOGIE SING ALONG 

FLAVOR SONG 

©(Benny “Grunch” Antin) ©Anzel Anzel, BMI 

Adapted from “Auld Lang Syne”, by Scottish poet 

Robert Burns (1759-1796) 

Well I call my Baby my Hubigs Cutie Pie. 

She’s the peach and cherry apple of my eye. 

From her fillin’ to her wrapper, she’s exactly what 

I’m after. 

And she calls me Savory Simon the pieman guy. 

I bring her Peach, bring her Apple, 

bring her Lemon, bring her Cherry. 

Strawberry, Sweet Potato, 

Pineapple, and Blueberry. 

Chocolate, Coconut, Blackberry. 

Daddy’o we’re snackin’. 

Then she sits right here and whispers in my ear, 

“I need me a couple’a napkins!” 

Me and my Baby love them Hubigs Pies. 

Each night I bring one home 

and she acts surprised. 

Or sometimes just to tease her, 

I’ll hide it in the freezer. 

And she’ll toast it up real quick, 

so the fillin’ stays cold inside. 



Strawberry, Sweet Potato, 

Pineapple, and Blueberry. 

Chocolate, Coconut, 

Blackberry done won me over. 

Then she sits right here and whispers in my ear, 

“I sent one to my sister in Houma!” 

Well we done up the house 

in a Hubigs color scheme. 

The kitchen’s in apple, 

and the front room’s chocolate cream. 

Didn’t need no decorator. 

Just went in with all the flavors. 

And we’ll see ya’ from the cover of the Southern 

Livin’ magazine. 



Strawberry, Sweet Potato, Pineapple, 

and Blueberry. 

Chocolate, Coconut, Blackberry, 

they keep gettin’ better. 

She goes, “Honey, fa’true” 

(with her Hubigs tatoo), 

“Hope they stay here fa’ever!” 

She gets Peach - Apple - Lemon - Cherry. 

Strawberry - Sweet Potato - 

Pineapple - Blueberry. 

Chocolate - Coconut, 

then she says to me, “Honey, I tell’ya.” 

“I love every crumb, right’na, 

I really need some...” 

“Hope they got a whole bunch they can sell ya’!” 

THE SPIRIT OF SMILEY LEWIS/ 

BRING ME BACK 


(This is the unaltered original version from 1974. 

No tricks or digital enhancement. 

This is exactly how it was on the original 45 record, 

first released in the late fall of 1974.) 

Can you still remember long 

before the Twist came 

When Fats called himself The Fat Man 

’cause he weighed two hundred pounds 

Parked my two-speed Cushman Eagle 

at Krupp’s out by the lake front 

Rolled my Camels in my tee shirt sleeve 

drank that Dixie down 

Bring me back - A loaf of Tip Top bread 

Bring me back - My Frost Top mug’s still cold 

Bring me back - 

Jukebox at City Park swimmin pool 

Bring me back to New Orleans Rock’n Roll 

No motel on the corner of Carrollton and Tulane 

Pelicans and Little Rock, playin ball 

Uncle Earl K. Long shakin hands 

with Mayor Morrison 

Spirit of Smiley Lewis

hangin’ round Germania Hall 

Bring me back - A nickle for the ferry 

Bring me back - King cake parties, do the stroll 

Bring me back - Some fireworks from Bucktown 


My chick lived way in Kenner, 

barely had a Vetrans’ Highway 

That’s a long drive for my Kaiser, 

but she’s tuff-a-nuff 

Tell her folks we’re at the CYO, 

park all night at Lenfant’s 

Next day guys all wanna know 

if she let cha do enough 

Bring me back - West End Basin 

Bring me back - To O’Shaughnessy’s to 

Bowl Bring me back - Jack The Cat 


Bring me back - Two Tony’s 

Bring me back - Safari Room 


Bring me back - Wego Inn 

Bring me back - Joy Lounge 


Bring me back - Saint Dominick’s dance 

Bring me back - Swamp Room 

Bring me back to New Orleans. . .Rock’n Roll 

THE TWELVE YATS 

OF CHRISTMAS 


1. On’da foist day’a Christmas mah 

Mawmaw gave’to me a Crawfish’dey 

Caught in Arabi 

2. In’da Christmas Picayune I seen it 

Dere’n Section E, Tujaque’s Recipe 

3. On’da thoid day’ a Christmas we 

Stopped at McKenzie for Three French Breads 

4. On the fourth day I said OK let’s get a 

Christmas tree Before’ya Drive Me Nuts 

5. On the fifth day of Christmas we 

stopped at A&G for Frrried Onion Rrrings 

6. On’da sixth day’a Christmas we 

stopped at K&B’s for a Six Pack’a Dixie 

7. Cemetery traffic got backed up to 

Metairie at the Seventeenth Street Canal 

8. On’da eighth day of Christmas me and 

Rosalie Ate By’ya Mama’s 

9. On the ninth day of Christmas we drove 

down Delery in’da Lower Ninth Ward 

10. I used’ta be at Kaiser now I’m woikin 

down’da street at’da Tenneco Chalmette Refinery 

11. On the eleventh day at Vetran’s 

Highway try’ta cross the street with Eleven 

Schwegmann Bags 

12. On the twelfth day of Christmas my 

true love gave to me a Dozen Manuel’s Tamales

AIN'T DERE NO MORE - PART 2 - Benny Grunch & The Bunch

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