Maine-ah
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Sun Jun-25-06 09:39 AM
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Trying to find a song title and artist |
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Does any one remember The Garbage Song? I don't think that is the actual title, it may be, but it's something from when I was a kid, it may even be older than that for all I know....
any thoughts?
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Hissyspit
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Sun Jun-25-06 09:46 AM
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1. Sounds familiar. Lyrics? |
Maine-ah
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Sun Jun-25-06 09:48 AM
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2. that's the shitty thing |
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all I can remember is part of the lyrics and it's ain't much....
and it's like the beginning of the chorus which is just garbage,garbage,garbage... I think it is done by some folk song artist of the 60's/70's possibly and this is all I can remember. I was pretty small at the time.
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GOPisEvil
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Sun Jun-25-06 09:49 AM
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3. You could try typing what you know of the lyrics into google. |
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You never know... :shrug:
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Maine-ah
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Sun Jun-25-06 09:54 AM
Response to Reply #3 |
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Edited on Sun Jun-25-06 09:59 AM by Maine-ah
on edit.... I thimk i've got it!
I think it may be Pete Seeger, but I'm trying to find a place where I can listen to the song...
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GOPisEvil
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Sun Jun-25-06 09:55 AM
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7. Well...hell...we've now exceeded my "find anything" skills... |
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Good luck finding your song.
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bertha katzenengel
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Sun Jun-25-06 09:52 AM
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4. "Trash" by The Bobs? Lyrics: |
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A person's home should be their castle (When I'm at home I want to feel like royalty) But I don't want to be the queen of this mess (Never before have I seen such misery) Living with my baby is a hassle (When he's at home he doesn't care Never combs his hair) I'm puttin' him out on the curb unless he cleans this Garbage up My baby loves
Trash My baby leaves his trash all over the house I've got to dig & dig & dig Just to find the bathroom in the morning My baby loves Trash My baby leaves his trash all over the house I think it's time to trash my baby
Well home is where the heart is (God what a mess it gives me cardiac arrest) But my heart isn't willing to stay there (Crumbs in the bed I can't get no rest) My man never learned to pick up his (Pardon the small you know he never does the laundry) Dirty shirts and socks and underwear He doesn't even care Talkin' bout
Trash My baby leaves his trash all over the house I've got to dig & dig & dig Just to find the bathroom in the morning My baby loves Trash My baby leaves his trash all over the house I think it's time to trash my baby
If cleanliness is next to godliness (One year of Sunday papers blocking the door) Then my baby is a heathen and a heretic (Ants so thick your feet never touch the floor) He worships at the altar of sloppiness (And fills the collection plate with cigarette butts) I'm gonna lace his food with arsenic And have him hauled away I'm picking up
Trash My baby leaves his trash all over the house I've got to dig & dig & dig Just to find the bathroom in the morning My baby loves Trash My baby leaves his trash all over the house I think it's time to trash my baby
I'm gonna call my garbageman Haul my baby and all of his trash away I'm gonna call my garbageman Haul my baby and all of his trash away I'm gonna call my garbageman Haul my baby and all of his trash away
I'm gonna call my garbageman Haul my baby and all of his trash away
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Maine-ah
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Sun Jun-25-06 09:54 AM
Response to Reply #4 |
6. nope, but thankyou anyway. |
Maine-ah
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Sun Jun-25-06 10:01 AM
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8. Found it, I guess I should have been a little more patient in my search. |
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Garbage! by Bill Steele in 1969, (with the last verse and chorus added by Pete Seeger.) Mister Thompson calls the waiter, orders steak and baked potato (Then) he leaves the bone and gristle and he never eats the skin The busboy comes and takes it, with a cough contaminates it (And he) puts it in a can with coffee grounds and sardine tins And the truck comes by on Friday and carts it all away A thousand trucks just like it are converging on the Bay
Oh, Garbage, garbage, garbage, garbage We're filling up the seas with garbage What will we do when there's no place left To put all the garbage
Mr. Thompson starts his Cadillac and winds it down the freeway track Leaving friends and neighbors in a hydrocarbon haze He's joined by lots of smaller cars all sending gases to the stars There to form a seething cloud that hangs for thirty days And the sun licks down into it with an ultraviolet tongue (Till it) turns to smog and then it settles in our lungs
Oh, Garbage, garbage We're filling up the sky with garbage Garbage, garbage What will we do, when there's nothing left to breathe but garbage
Getting home and taking off his shoes he settles with the evening news While the kids do homework with the TV in one ear While Superman for thousandth's time sell talking dolls and conquers crime (They) dutifully learn the date of birth of Paul Revere In the paper there's a piece about the mayor's middle name (And) he gets it done in time to watch the all-star bingo game
Oh, Garbage We're filling up our minds with garbage What will we do when there's nothing left to read And there's nothing left to need there's nothing left to watch there's nothing left to touch there's nothing left to walk upon and nothing left to ponder on nothing left to see and nothing left to be but garbage
In Mr. Thompson's factory they're making plastic Christmas trees Complete with silver tinsel and a geodesic stand The plastic's mixed in giant vats, from some conglomeration that's been piped from deep within the Earth, or strip-mined from the land And if you ask them questions they say "why don't you see? It's absolutely needed for the economy."
Oh, garbage, garbage, garbage Their stocks and their bonds all garbage What will they do when their system go to smash there's no value to their cash there's no money to be made that there's a world to be repaid their kids will read in history book about financiers and other crooks and feudalism and slavery and nukes and all their knavery To history's dustbin they're consigned, along with many other kinds of garbage
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Thu May 02nd 2024, 09:56 AM
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