A song I sing to cheer up when I’m tempted to feel sorry for myself. The music exists and could be made available, supposing anyone wanted it, but it’s not in machine-readable form and would be a bother to transcribe. It’s a ghastly tune, about halfway between a polka and ‘The Volga Boatmen’.
My notes don’t include any exact dates, but I wrote this about fifteen years ago.
Jeremiah
The day you left me, the war broke out;
I stubbed my big toe and it made me shout.
My next door neighbour took her husband’s life;
I lost my keys and my Swiss Army knife.
Oh, the shame! Oh, the pain!
All my life running down the drain—
And then it started to rain—
And then my goldfish died.
The day you left me, the markets crashed;
I had a hangover ’cos I got smashed.
A mad assassin tried to kill the Queen;
I lost a quarter in a vending machine.
Oh, the shame! Oh, the pain!
All my life running down the drain—
And then it started to rain—
And then my goldfish died.
[Spoken over bridge:
I’ll never forget the sight of poor little Jeremiah, floating belly-up in his bowl. Why didn’t anybody tell me Ty-D-Bol is not for use in cleaning fish tanks?
I think I’m gonna sue someone.]
The day you left me, the H-bombs fell:
Five hundred million people blown to hell.
Millions are homeless ’cos their slums got sold,
And I’m bummed out because my coffee is cold.
Oh, the shame! Oh, the pain!
All my life running down the drain—
And then it started to rain—
And then my goldfish died.
Oh, the shame! Oh, the pain!
Flushing Jeremiah down the drain—
And then it started to rain—
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