Laughable Lyrics

by Dana Luther

Well-articulated, witty lyrics stand the test of time. The classic lyricist Cole Porter was thinking clearly—that’s why his songs are so memorable. But how do so many songs, old and new, become memorable for the wrong reason? There’s something funny about them, intentional or not, either because they were clumsily written or because the audience doesn’t understand them. Thus many popular song lyrics slip through the editing process (if there is one), or through our own fallible ears, to assail instead of entertain. No doubt you have plenty of examples of your own. Here are some that come to my mind.

In the early 70s, the Stylistics released the very popular “Betcha By Golly Wow,” in which they sing, “There’s a spark of magic in your eye/Candyland appears each time you smile.” This makes me wonder what the love object’s mouth looks like. It sounds as though the recipient of the song needs serious dental care.

Then, there’s the line in The Four Seasons’ 1964 “Rag Doll,” “Such a pretty face/should be dressed in lace.” This picture doesn’t work for me. I’ve seen babies with lacy bonnets, but why would a teen or an adult dress her face in lace? I say she’s better off with the rags.

Although I can’t remember the artist, the title, or the date, one late 20th century pop song has lines that approximate these: “Let me take your hand/I need something to remember you by.” I laugh and cringe every time I hear it. Yecchh! This was the sort of partner Van Gogh was looking for when he cut off his ear. Unluckily for him, such shenanigans didn’t persuade the object of his affection.

Sometimes a whole title sounds funny, such as Kenny Rogers’ “You Decorated My Life.” To me, this conjures up the image of some mad interior decorator going overboard with wallpaper and window treatments. Or, worse, it summons an image of the family pet “decorating” the rug.

In 1961 Rick Nelson had the hit “Travelin’ Man,” in which he says he’s “made a lotta stops/All over the world” and claims that in every place he’s been he “own[s] the heart of at least one lovely girl.” Let’s see. There’s Mexico, Alaska, Berlin, Hong Kong, and Waikiki. (Okay. I’d be more impressed if he also told us about the places he left out in order to keep the song under three minutes.)

He’s a young vagabond, and probably hasn’t been around the block enough to return to see even one of these girls a second time. Yet he believes they’ll all wait indefinitely for him. Get real, Rick, these girls have gone on with their lives! Granted, it’s revisionist of me to note that the diminutives “pretty senorita,” “sweet Fraulein” and “China doll” sound patronizing and politically incorrect. But what really bothers me is Rick’s suggestion that listeners hook up with his “sweet little Eskimo” if ever they visit Alaska. Holy cow, not only does he think he owns them; he’s pimping them to strangers long distance!

**********************

I can’t blame unthinking writers for all the lyrics that induce chuckles. Listeners are faulty, as well. Anyone can call to mind lines they once didn’t, or still don’t, understand. Young children are especially vulnerable, and thus brilliant at this, because they don’t have logical expectations of lyrics. But adults have their share of unresolved mishearing, too.

In 1984, The Thompson Twins came out with “Hold Me Now” (on “Into the Gap”). Until a few weeks ago I thought the song featured as part of its chorus, “Hold me now/Oh, oh, hold my heart [the background singer chimes in, “hold my cold and tired heart”]/Stay with me/Let lovin’ start, let lovin’ start…” No thanks! I don’t want to hold a heart of any temperature, or start lovin’ someone while I’m responsible for a vital organ. But I discovered that for nearly twenty years I’d heard the song incorrectly every time! Greatly humiliated, I now know it’s “Warm my heart.” But, still … microwave, or conventional oven?

As a kid I was shocked when my neighbor danced around the room singing loudly, “This is the dawning of the angels’ aquarium, the angels’ aquariuuuuuum! A-quaaar-i-uuuum!” Then three of her siblings chimed in, none of them realizing that the Fifth Dimension’s subject was the zodiac.

In high school, I remember sitting with a group of friends discussing pop songs. A guy from the swim team said, “I really like that song ‘You’re So Vain,’ where it goes, ‘I had some dreams/They were clowns in my coffee, clowns in my coffee.’” We stared at him, incredulous. “Well, it could be ‘clowns.’ Why not?” he said, perplexed. The rest of us decided that the chlorine had done some damage.

Christmas carols present their own kind of problems. Whether we know and like them or not, most of us wind up faking lyrics sometime or other. At a party for a community club, we children sang before Santa would distribute gifts to us. But a lot of kids were pre-readers, so the lyrics sheet was meaningless. Every year, in “Hark the Herald,” I sang, “Let ev’ry heart/Prepare him moon.” (I didn’t know what mooning was then). At the same time, I thought the song was somehow about our next-door neighbor, Harold Pozanac.

And then there’s “Deck the Halls,” with “don we now our gay apparel.” At age four, I thought this addressed my dad, Don. But something seemed missing: “Don, we now our gay apparel [insert verb here].” Fa-la-la is too vague! We now our gay apparel what? Don, we now our gay apparel remove?

My mother’s childhood problem carol was “White Christmas.” She thought it said “may all your Christmas cards be white,” and wondered why in the world anyone would want only white cards. Thankfully, Elvis mishearings are less common than Elvis sightings. “Hound Dog” sends a lot people barking up the wrong tree. An adult friend pondered what the hound dog was doing “all the time.” It’s always sounded to me like a breathy “ty-hih” (short i) but it might as well be “fy-hih’,” “ry-hih”or any number of other things it isn’t.

Until my son got the new CD of Elvis’s number-one hits last Christmas, I thought that instead of “You ain’t never caught a rabbit,” it was “You ain’t nothing but a rabbit.” Not being from Elvis’ neck of the woods, I could only guess that this was an insult to the hound dog. But I suspected “nothing but” couldn’t be right, because the whole song is about the accusee being a dog. (Now that I know how it goes, as a suburbanite I still don’t really see why it’s a shame for any kind of dog never to have caught a rabbit…) Maybe I have chlorine brain damage.

At our house, “Return to Sender” leaves us in the dead-letter office. In second grade I had a close friend named Lucinda, and I thought Elvis sang, “Return, Lucinda!” Then comes, “Address unknown/No such numba/ no such . . .” uuhh, what is it? Phone? No, it couldn’t be “phone” if it’s about a letter! Once I understood “phone” was wrong, I was still stuck because I didn’t know what a “zone” was—I grew up in the age of zip codes. Then my son started listening to the song. He tried, “return to Sendak,” his favorite author/illustrator; and “return the sendback”—pretty logical—until I broke it to him gently.

**********************

Some lyricists write off-kilter lyrics on purpose. I encourage them. It indicates that they’re thinking and want their audience to think, as well. My examples are quite old and will likely be unfamiliar to many Writer On Line readers; nevertheless, they illustrate perfectly what I mean.

“The Laughing Song” by Dan Hicks and His Hot Licks (“Striking it Rich,” 1971) is a nonsense tune about an unlikely boy who lives alone by the sea. He has to entertain himself and invents a “ha-ha-ha-ho-ho-ho” song, passing his days dancing and singing, swimming and laughing until a passing ship hears “the funny noise.” (Get that? The ship hears the noise.) The crew stops to befriend him and take him back to his homeland. And what did this charming boy do then? At a very fast pace, in two lines that should each have somewhere between seventeen and nineteen syllables, Hicks sings

While rehearsing his act he made the grandiose mistake of living with his long lost unc-l-l-l-e

Could you blame him for wondering about a nephew who just couldn’t seem to lose the chuckles?

Twenty-three syllables each, and all in a single breath; maybe two. Without actually listening to the song, figure out how to make that scan! Of course, “grandiose” is precisely the wrong word, but only audibly wrong enough to give the listener pause before (appropriately) laughter sets in. “Grand,” perhaps, but “grandiose”? And “chuckles” hardly gets by with “uncle.”

Hicks uses another surprise technique in “Is This My Happy Home?” on the “Where’s the Money?” album. He sets up an expectation, but doesn’t follow it through as most of us might think:

The kitchen sink is dirty
The baby has to burp
Your hair is in an awful ___________________
(Your guess here)

Several friends concur with me in expecting the colloquial “mess.” But what Hicks sings is close but no cigar: it’s “maze.” The next drawn-out line rescues its predecessor via rhyme: “It’s been [pause] that way [pause] for daaaays.”

**********************

If we’re conscientious and attentive, occasionally we’ll attain Cole Porterhood. We’ll either write or hear well-honed, outside-the-box lyrics that satisfy both our sense of logic and our sense of humor, without being unintentionally funny.

Dana Luther, a.k.a. Documaven, is a former university literature and writing instructor. She designs, writes and manages technical documentation and intra/internet content for a living, and freelances to feed her creative spirit.