There really isn't a forum for song-writing or lyrics here, but I probably wouldn't go there,
seeing it as too serious. I've got some words here that could be song, but they're not serious.
This is a being at home activity for me, as I always talk about how I improvise lyrics or update other lyrics,
onstage and walking around with my beater streeter guitar and portable amp.
When I was in grade two or three I got to pick a single when we were shopping, and I picked "Ringo".
That was a western sounding song talk-sung by Lorne Greene when he was the star of a big TV show, "Bonanaza"
And I'm pretty sure my parents would have had my brothers helping me pick it out.
The next single was "Sidewalk Surfin" by Jan and Dean. We thought that was the Beach Boys.
"He lay face down in the desert sand, clutching a six-gun in his hand.
Shot from behind I thought he was dead, because under his heart was an ounce of lead... Ringo".
Here's what could be a song, just riffing off Ringo with northern Canadian fontage.
A Cold Love Song
He lay face down on the arctic ice shelf,
gored by a walrus, he couldn't move himself.
I put my hand under his sealskin coat,
and felt his heart beating in his throat.
My huskies howled with his extra weight,
the sleigh was groaning, I couldn't be late.
When the sun went down, we would all freeze and die,
so I asked the great spirit as he passed in the sky.
If my friend took a tusk, from his back to his chest,
am I going to save him, or just put him to rest?
This long day is ending, and the condensation is damp.
It's a long way to go, before I burn the oil lamp.
The great spirit answered, the ice cracked all around,
urging the huskies to run to their compound.
The snow started to harden, making it easy to skid,
and when he got back he was surprised that he did.
It took many days but his friend recovered,
he was the lead guitarist that the Inuit discovered.
It didn't take long, before his wife rubbed noses with him,
and they took off with his sleigh, and his best pemmican.
They see him out there, snow-shoeing alone,
picking through piles of old whale bones.
He makes his inuktuks to guide his love back again,
and he wrote songs to remember, saying Dave we were friends.
The dark night continues, for many more months,
The Inuit keeps chewing his skin all alone.
He uses pieces of metal from a sunken oil derrick,
as he sits there hating his old friend Dave Toderick.
Strange arctic things happen under those northern lights,
but everyone loves the new band known as "Falling Ice".
They say the Inuit went snow-blind, and wandered around,
singing a song he called "Wall Rush", that Rush fans put down.
It didn't take long for global fame to come through,
with a documentary narrated by Richard Attenborough.
But as the backstage orgy chewed on whale testicle,
The Inuit returned with a big male bull.
The naked party scattered over the dark frozen ice,
looking like many immigrating lemming mice.
But the Inuit thought these new words hurt me more,
spoken by my new friend, vice-president Al Gore.
He came to see me, saying I have to leave,
before the ice melts and I sink in the sea.
That's when I thought of my friend and his band Falling Ice,
thinking he's ahead of his time, global warming isn't nice.
They lay face down, floating in the sea,
a bunch of naked Eskimos that everyone could see.
Bobbing like ice cubes, the Inuit just watched,
and thought of a better guitarist known as John Watt.
I'm sitting here now in front of this screen,
typing and typing like it's some music scene.
Getting sore from behind, and it's not from working a sled,
I better shut down and start getting ready for bed.
Bingo!
