THE MERMAID AND THE GENIE © John S. Michael, 2010

Brothers and sisters gather around me, I have a simple story to tell,
About a genie born in the desert, who found a mermaid under a shell.
They fell in love, down by the shoreline, where the water meets the sand.
Beside a bull rush under the moonlight, he asked the mermaid for her hand.

I saw a mermaid dance in the desert.
I saw a genie sail in the sea.
Love is the wind that blows from Medina.
Love is the wave that rolls from Galilee.

King Poseidon let loose a tempest, to see his only daughter wed.
The sheik of genies blew a sirocco, swore to strike her husband dead.
King Poseidon led an invasion, sent sea serpents into the sand.
Into the ocean, genie assassins, swam with scimitars in their hands.

Then a voice came down from the heavens, all the earth trembled with fear.
An angel of the Lord descended, sounding a trumpet, shedding a tear.
The gentle seraph said to Poseidon, send your soldiers off of my land.
To the sheik, she set forth a fatwa, bury your weapons in the sand.

The Lord has given so many blessings, And yet you squander all that he gives.
War is an insult to his creation. You who kill, must learn to live.
In the left eye of the almighty, you’ll see a mermaid, gentle and fair.
In the right eye, there is a genie, open your eyes, and you can see them there.

Love is the wind, love is the wave.
Love is the wind, love is the wave.

ON SESAME STREET © John S. Michael, 1997

On Sesame Street, nobody cares,
If you’re yellow or red or have bright purple hair.
If you’re covered with feather’s or covered with flies,
And you don’t have to win, just as long as you try.
The kid on the streets with their eager faces,
Were going to make this world a better place.
I want to go. I want to go. I want to go to Sesame Street.

When I was little, I used to say,
I’m going to live next to Gordon some day,
Or old Mr. Hooper, so wise and so kind.
That Cookie monster he was out of his mind.
When I grew up I tries to find it,
But Donald Trump had re-gentrified it.
I want to go. I want to go. I want to go to Sesame Street.

I left that friendly place so long ago,
Now I’m lost and confused,
Big Bird I need you so.

Some day Rush Limbaugh and cable TV,
Will join down chemical and make a disease,
That will poison the airwaves and knock down the trees.
It will kill Mr. Rogers and public TV.
They’ll all go to heaven when their lives are over,
But instead of St. Peter, they’ll be greeted by Grover.
I want to go. I want to go. I want to go to Sesame Street.

I’M AFRAID OF EVERYTHING © John S. Michael, 1997

Once I was afraid that my awkward youth would never end.
Now I’m afraid that it has stopped.
Once I was afraid of the things going on underneath my bed.
Now I’m afraid of what’s going on top.

I was afraid of some things, I’m not any more.
Now, I’m afraid of everything.

Once I was afraid of the dark. I slept with the night light on.
Now I’m afraid of what I see.
Once I was afraid that my parents would suddenly disappear.
Now I’m afraid they will always be with me.

CHORUS

Once I was afraid I would lead a normal boring life.
Now I’m afraid I never will.
Once I was afraid of the ghosts that would case me in my dreams.
Sometime I swear there’re chasing after me still.

CHORUS

Needles, dog bites, spiders, girls, heights,
The list goes on.
Now I’m afraid of everything.

RAINY DAY © John S. Michael, 2006

It’s a rainy day,but the rain is good.
It’s the universe,doing what it should.
It’s the way things grow. Mother Nature’s way.
It’s the perfect time for a rainy day

It’s a rainy day. Things are slowing down.
It’s a quite time. No one else around
I can read a book, put some things away.
I can plan ahead for a rainy day.

It’s a rainy day in a minor key.
‘At’s the way it goes. It occurs to me,
In a week or so, it will be okay.
Just broken heart on a rainy day.

It’s a rainy day, an unlucky break.
It’s the chance I took, a thoughtful mistake.
It’ll be all right, so my sisters say.
It’ll take some time on a rainy day

It’s a rainy day. It’s a rainy day.
See the water fall. Watch it flow away.
It’s a rainy day. Nothing more to say
Just a rainy day.

GOTTA MAKE HAY © John S. Michael, 2001

I was born in a noble house, with a feather bed.
Well fed,I ate from a silver plate.
Everyday a cool breeze, a life of ease,
Bathed in sweet perfume. No gloom.

Until I wandered outside the palace gate,
I met a beggar and began to contemplate.
I saw a cripple and began to cry,
For an old man waiting to die. I knew I had to make
Hay, hey, hey, while the sun shines.

Into the jungle, I did tumble,
Living with holy men, Brahmin, sanctified shaman,
Staring at the sun, standing in the rain,
Feeling no pain, dedicated, consecrated, medicated.

I became the king of the magicians,
Thrusting myself into yogic positions.
Stuck on myself till I was skin and bone.
Wasted, ’cause I did not know to make
Hay, hey, hey, while the sun shines.

And then it just occurred to me.
Another possibility.
All along it was in front of me.
There’s a way, every day, you can be free.
Give a little, give a lot, give a damn, and you can make,
Hay, hey, hey, while the sun shines.

And so I took to the open road. I carried no load.
No burden on me, free,
I wandered with out end. I told my friends,
Just how I got burned, and the things I learned, and,
Verily, I say quite merrily.
You want CLARITY, start with charity.
Find your own way. Seize you own day.
Anyway you can, that’s the plan, and remember to make
Hay, hey, hey, while the sun shines.

GOING DOWN TO DELAWARE © John S. Michael, 2012

Take the bridge into Jersey. Cross the great Garden State
Load the car on the ferry, that takes off from the cape
Come tonight the light’s gonna shine, on the Great White Way
But it ain’t gonna shine on me, I’ll be too far away

I’m going down to Delaware. That’s where I’m gonna go
That’s the last place she’d find me. That’s the last place she’d go

I’ll be down in Rehobeth, where the gentlemen meet
I will be just another soul, sifting sand with my feet
Dewey Beach ain’t no London. Lewes ain’t no Paris
This is no place for lovers, but it’s all right by me.

I really don’t know how I got here. I didn’t mean to stay so long
I never thought I would be very good at running away.
I was wrong.

Deep down I cannot deny, you can’t hide from the pain
You can’t drown all you troubles, in the coastal plane
You can’t run from you problems. This is quite clear to me
But while my credit card still takes a charge, I’m increasing my lead.

AY MARIACHI © John S. Michael, 2012

I will never be a general with a ribbon on my chest,
Or a desperado bandit with a pistol in my vest,
For I am a Mariachi and I shall forever be.
If you have no money, I’ll play to you for free.

Ay ay ay ay, ay ay ay ay
Ay mariachi, ay ay ay ay ay

My mother used to tell me on the day that I was born,
A thunderbolt exploded like a mariachi horn.
It echoed through the heavens with a syncopated beat.
I slept in my cradle, tapping with my feet.

CHORUS

When this sorry song is over, when I finally leave the band.
Take me to the chapel with a guitar in my hand.
Bury me beneath the market underneath the street.
With a shot glass in my fingers and a tip jar by my feet

CHORUS

OH MARGARET © John S. Michael, 2012

I got a job one summer at a summer camp.
I mowed the lawns and painted bathroom walls.
And it was there I met a girl named Margaret.
She taught the first grade class she came from Donegal.
And she was only visiting from Ireland.
And when she spoke I swear my heart stood still.
One summer night we kissed behind the tractor shed.
Oh Margaret, my Margaret, I miss you still.

Those little black kids from north Philadelphia,
They couldn’t understand a word she said.
And yet somehow they managed to communicate.
You she they spoke the language of the heart instead.
And when the summer ended and they drove away,
Oh how they cried as Margaret drove away.
Who would have guessed that one day I’d be just like them.
Oh Margaret, My Margaret, she went away.

Now whenever I hear Danny Boy,
Or some sweet simple Gaelic tune,
I don’t harken back to Ireland.
I only think of you.

I tried to get her number back in Donegal.
The operator thought I was insane.
I had a huge directory assistance bill.
I searched for forty minutes, but I searched in vain.
There are a thousand songs written by Irishmen,
About a love they squandered, long ago.
Well here is one written by an American.
Oh Margaret, my Margaret, I miss you so.

CHORUS

LIFE’S A MESS LETS DANCE © John S. Michael, 1998

I’m not into cars and football. You’re not into heels and hair
I’ve been burnt by woman like you. You’ve been burnt by men like me

Let’s dance. Life’s a mess, let’s dance.

Back in school I had a lover. You don’t know her but she was you.
Like the guy you used to live with. He did all the things I do.

CHORUS

When we were kids we thought it would all make sense someday.
Now resolution seems to be drifting farther and farther away.

CHORUS

I’ve got a thousand reasons, why you should walk away.
But now the music’s swaying, just enough to make me want to say.

CHORUS

NIGHT OF THE LIVING LAWN ORNAMENTS © John S. Michael, 1997

I was walking down the sidewalk on a steamy summer night,
When a space ship passed above me and filled the sky with light.
It blanketed the countryside in strange peculiar rays,
That temporarily blinded me and left me in a daze.
I wandered down the avenue and passed the boulevard,
Then I passed out in a lawn chair sitting in somebody’s yard.
When I awoke I witnessed such a sight,
All the lawn ornaments had come to life,
All the lawn ornaments had come to life.

The lions by the driveway got together for a hunt.
They ran after the deer that had been standing by the front.
The squirrel in the mailbox began to run around.
The kittens on the roof they finally climbed down.
A flock of pink flamingos began to flap their wings,
While a long line of ducklings waddled off to find a stream.
A dozen giant woodpeckers flew out of sight,
The night the lawn ornaments all came to life,
The night the lawn ornaments all came to life.

That shiny mirror ball it did not make a sound,
It hopped right off its pedestal and began to dance around.

The wino on the lamppost got a job and gave up booze.
The burro and the Mexican went back to Vera Cruz.
The cherubs by the birdbath were flying round the house,
While the goddess in the garden went out to buy a blouse.
The gnome got off the toadstool and headed out of town,
While the blessed virgin Mary grabbed a chair and sat down.
The jockey out front threw away his light,
The night the lawn ornaments all came to life,
The night the lawn ornaments all came to life.

THE ANSWER IS YES © John S. Michael, 1997

You take me out to the forest green.
And lay me down by the winding stream.
You wash me clean, down to my very soul.
You make a place for me where, I can grow

And when I ask you, can you hear me above the rest.
The answer is yes. The answer is yes.
The answer is yes. The answer is yes.

No matter how low I may slide.
I will not run, and I will not hide.
You always seem to be, can you help me through this mess.
The answer is yes. The answer is yes.
The answer is yes. The answer is yes.

CHORUS

I’m nothing more than a little lamb.
You do more for me than any other can.

When I’m surrounded you rescue me.
With your perfumes, and your cups of tea.
Lately I see good things, every day.
Looks like I finally, found a place to stay
And when I ask you, can I stay at this address.
The answer is yes. The answer is yes.
The answer is yes. The answer is yes.