Category Archives: Song Lyric Sunday

Song Lyric Sunday: Disco Balls

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Jim Adams is the host for Song Lyric Sunday. This week’s theme is Disco.

The US had Donna Summer, Michael Jackson, and Gloria Gaynor, and mainland Europe produced Boney M, Baccara and Modern Talking. But the UK came up with Kelly Marie and her 1980 one-hit wonder: Feels Like I’m in Love.

Kelly single-handedly resurrected the catsuit (or jumpsuit if you’re vegan) and pranced around in the video with a couple of sailors in front of London landmarks and disinterested tourists.

But we didn’t care. This was a fun disco song: it went to number one in the UK and conquered more European nations than Hitler.

The amusing thing is the track was allegedly written for Elvis Presley. Whether he recorded it or not is a moot point. But I like to think of him dancing around Graceland with a couple of friends. And he already had a jumpsuit.

My head is in a spin, my feet don’t touch the ground
Because you’re near to me, my head goes round and round
My knees are shakin’ baby, my heart it beats like a drum

It feels like, it feels like I’m in love

Ain’t been this way before, but I know I’m turned on
It’s time for something baby, I can’t turn off
My knees are shakin’ baby, my heart it beats like a drum

It feels like, it feels like I’m in love
My knees shake, my heart beats like a drum

It feels like, it feels like I’m in love
My knees shake, my heart beats like a drum

Ooh baby [x3]

My head is in a spin, my feet don’t touch the ground
Because you’re near to me, my head goes round and round
My knees are shakin’ baby, my heart it beats like a drum
It feels like, it feels like I’m in love
My knees shake, my heart beats like a drum

Ooh baby

Songwriter: Raymond Edward Dorset
© Roh Publishing

Song Lyric Sunday: Chorus Girls

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Jim Adams is the host for Song Lyric Sunday. This week’s theme is Girl Groups.

Following from last week’s theme, I’ve gone for a spot of musical nepotism. B*Witched are an Irish girl group comprising twin sisters Edele and Keavy Lynch, Lindsay Armaou and Sinéad O’Carroll. They formed in 1996 and their struggle for chart success was aided and abetted by Sean Lynch of Boyzone. The twins are his little sisters!

I wasn’t their target audience back in the day, but I have fond memories of all the women at my friend’s wedding dancing to this after the bouquet-throwing ceremony. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but my knees ached for days afterwards.

If you’ll excuse me, I’ll sit this one out.

(Some people say I look like me Dad)
Oh-oh, hey, hey, oh-oh, oh-oh
I say, hey boy, sittin’ in your tree
Mummy always wants you to come for tea (oh-oh)
Don’t be shy, straighten up your tie
Get down from your treehouse, sittin’ in the sky (oh-oh)

I wanna know just what to do
Is it very big? Is there room for two? (oh-oh)
I got a house with windows and doors
I’ll show you mine if you show me yours

Gotta let me in, hey, hey, hey
Let the fun begin, hey
I’m the wolf today, hey, hey, hey
I’ll huff, I’ll puff, I’ll huff, I’ll puff, I’ll blow you away

Say you will say you won’t
Say you’ll do what I don’t
Say you’re true, say to me (say you will)
C’est la vie

Say you will say you won’t
Say you’ll do what I don’t
Say you’re true, say to me (get a life!)
C’est la vie

Do you play with the girls, play with the boys?
Do you ever get lonely playing with your toys? (oh-oh)
We can talk, we can sing
I’ll be the queen and you’ll be the king (oh-oh)

Hey boy, in your tree
Throw down your ladder, make a room for me (oh-oh)
I got a house with windows and doors
I’ll show you mine if you show me yours

Gotta let me in, hey, hey, hey
Llet the fun begin, hey
I’m the wolf today, hey, hey, hey
I’ll huff, I’ll puff, I’ll huff, I’ll puff, I’ll blow you away

Say you will say you won’t
Say you’ll do what I don’t
Say you’re true, say to me (say you will, yeah)
C’est la vie

Say you will say you won’t (oh, say you will)
Say you’ll do what I don’t (say you will)
Say you’re true, say to me (what are you like?)
C’est la vie

Hey, hey, na-na-na, hey, na-na-na, oh
Na-na-na, hey, hey-hey-hey-hey

Say you will say you won’t
Say you’ll do what I don’t (say you will)
Say you’re true, say to me
Wanna say, c’est la vie

Say you will say you won’t
Say you’ll do what I don’t
Say you’re true, say to me (say you will)
(Fight like me dad as well) C’est la vie

Na-na-na, hey, na-na-na, oh (c’est la vie)
Na-na-na, hey, hey-hey-hey-hey (c’est la vie)

Songwriters: Martin Brannigan, Ray Hedges, Tracy Ackerman, Sinead O’Carroll, Edele Lynch, Keavy Lynch & Lindsay Armaou
© Polygram Music Publishing Ltd. Bucks Music Group Limited, Chrysalis Music Ltd

Song Lyric Sunday: Separating the Men from the Boys

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Jim Adams is the host for Song Lyric Sunday. This week’s theme is Boy Bands.

This is how shallow I am. Back in 1994, I started seeing a bloke who was into writing poetry, saving the planet and being an all-round good egg. Things were going well until I discovered a fact so hideous, I was forced to run for the hills.

The man of my dreams, gulp, was a fan of Boyzone (and Take That before them). Why wasn’t he into Nick Drake or Leonard Cohen? Asking a club DJ to dedicate Love Me for a Reason to me is not a surefire way to capture my heart.

We smooched around the floor together (me with gritted teeth) and had a massive row about music on the way home. Our budding romance died on the vine.

But we both moved on. Within twelve months, he became a copper and married a lady from Israel, and I met my future husband. But I still remind myself not to be such a judgemental twit. Sometimes it works.

Girl when you hold me how you control me
You bend and you fold me any way you please
It must be easy for you the loving things that you do
Are just a pastime for you I could never be

And I never know, girl, if I should stay or go
’cause the games that you play keep driving me away

Don’t love me for fun, girl, let me be the one, girl
Love me for a reason, let the reason be love
Don’t love me for fun, girl, let me be the one, girl
Love me for a reason, let the reason be love

Kisses and caresses are only minor tests, babe
Of love lead to stresses between a woman and a man
So if love everlasting isn’t what you’re asking
I’ll have to pass, girl I’m proud to take a stand

I can’t continue guessing because it’s only messing
With my pride and my mind so write down this time to time

Don’t love me for fun, girl, let me be the one, girl
Love me for a reason let the reason be love
Don’t love me for fun, girl, let me be the one, girl
Love me for a reason let the reason be love

I’m just a little old-fashioned it takes more than physical attraction
My initial reaction is honey give me love not a facsimile of

Don’t love me for fun, girl, let me be the one, girl
Love me for a reason let the reason be love
Don’t love me for fun, girl, let me be the one, girl
Love me for a reason let the reason be love

Don’t love me for fun, girl, let me be the one, girl
Love me for a reason let the reason be love
Don’t love me for fun, girl, let me be the one, girl
Love me for a reason let the reason be love

Songwriters: David Jones Jr, Johnny Bristol & Wade Brown
© Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

Song Lyric Sunday: A Cute Accent?

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Jim Adams is the host for Song Lyric Sunday. This week’s theme is Gospel.

Picture a primary school in Bristol, England. See the children in morning assembly, singing American spirituals and gospel music. Looks sweet, doesn’t it? Until you add volume to the image.

People from Bristol have a quirk of adding the letter L to the end of random words. And we adore the letter R, making us sound like Hollywood pirates, arrr! Click here if you dare Bristolian Accent.

So, Noah didn’t build the ark that was some chap called No-awl. Poor old Moses spent years in Egypt battling with the Fair-roll. And it was Josh-u-all who fought the battle of Jerrry-co.

This attempt at broadening our cultural horizons, not to mention vowel sounds, came courtesy of Mr Duboise, an American exchange teacher. He was a brave man! But there was one song we didn’t torture, and it was a firm favourite for years after he left: Hand Me Down My Silver Trumpet.

Well, I’ve never been to Heaven, but I’ve been told,
Hand me down my silver trumpet, Gabriel
The gates are made of pearl and the street are made of gold,
Hand me down my silver trumpet, Lord.

O hand me down, hand me down,
O hand me down, hand me down
O hand me down my silver trumpet, Gabriel
Send it down, hand it down,
Any ol’ way, just get it down
Hand me down my silver trumpet Lord.

If religion were a thing that money could buy
Hand me down my silver trumpet, Gabriel
The rich would live, and the poor would die,
Hand me down my silver trumpet, Lord.

O hand me down, hand me down,
O hand me down, hand me down
O hand me down my silver trumpet, Gabriel
Send it down, hand it down,
Any ol’ way, just get it down
Hand me down my silver trumpet Lord.

Well now, if you want a silver trumpet like mine,
Hand me down my silver trumpet, Gabriel
You’d better learn to play it in plenty of time,
Hand me down my silver trumpet, Lord.

O hand me down, hand me down,
O hand me down, hand me down
O hand me down my silver trumpet, Gabriel
Send it down, hand it down,
Any ol’ way, just get it down
Hand me down my silver trumpet Lord
O hand me down!
© Montgomery County Maryland Public Schools

Song Lyric Sunday: Rudeboys Cannot Fail

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Jim Adams is the host for Song Lyric Sunday. This week’s theme is Reggae Music.

Going all the way back to 1967 and Jamaica this week, with 007 (Shanty Town) by Desmond Dekker and the Aces.

It’s a track with a feel-good reggae vibe which tells the tale of a not-so-good person! A young lad, the rude boy, is released from prison but continues with his life of crime until the last verse, which has him in tears.

Nothing unusual about the lyrics, or the song, from that point of view, but this record was the first Jamaican-produced single to break into the UK’s Top Twenty. It only got to number 14, but it opened the gates (and many ears) to the music of the West Indies and the Caribbean.

007, 007
At ocean eleven
And now rudeboys a go wail
‘Cause them out of jail
Rudeboys cannot fail
‘Cause them must get bail

Oh-woah-oh, dem a loot, dem a shoot, dem a wail
A shanty town
Dem a loot, dem a shoot, dem a wail
A shanty town

Dem rudeboys get a probation
A shanty town
And rudeboy a bomb up the town
A shanty town

007, 007
At ocean eleven
And the rudeboys a go wail
‘Cause them out of jail
Rudeboys cannot fail
‘Cause them must get bail

Oh-woah-oh, dem a loot, dem a shoot, dem a wail
A shanty town
Dem a loot, dem a shoot, dem a wail
A shanty town

Dem rudeboys get a probation
A shanty town
And rudeboy a bomb up the town
A shanty town

Police get taller
A shanty town
Soldier get longer
A shanty town

Rudeboy a weep and a wail
A shanty town

Songwriter(s): Dacres
© Beverleys Records Ltd.